


Owned, Body and Soul

by canadascockpit



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Daddy Kink, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Parent/Child Incest, Shameless Smut, a little slice of canon but mostly just rampant fuckery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22489450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadascockpit/pseuds/canadascockpit
Summary: Sabrina tended to Lucifer, chained and bound, and found herself giving into his hazy magic that ignites feelings in her she hadn't thought herself capable of.
Relationships: Nicholas Scratch/Sabrina Spellman, The Dark Lord | Satan/Sabrina Spellman
Comments: 246
Kudos: 491





	1. Chapter 1

Sabrina Spellman was a blessing in a world of suffering. She had blossomed like a beautiful flower in the pits of Hell, surviving all adversity, becoming all the stronger, more merciful, more fearsome as a result. She never lost her capacity to love, nor her will towards goodness. 

She was a witch, a mortal. A saviour, a condemner. The Queen of Hell. She was a breath of cool air in high spirits and a blazing inferno in her wrath. She was probably one of the most stubborn things to walk the firmaments of Hell and Earth in over a millennia, she knew. But, everything she did was for a greater purpose, to achieve some good. She couldn’t fault herself for this. 

So, Sabrina Spellman marched steadfastly down the darkened stairs that lead towards the Academy’s dungeons, a candle in hand, never once doubting the surety of her steps nor her intentions. The flimsy halo of amber light guided her through the blackness, the unaired, night-drenched dungeon; though, she had visited so many times before she could’ve done it with her eyes closed. 

She was here to see her beloved Nick, whom she and her friends had plucked from the ravages of Hell like a molting dandelion, gathering tufts to her throbbing heart and securing him away from the harsh winds of the world. She wouldn’t let him disappear again; in fact, Sabrina detested having Nick out of her sight for too long. She couldn’t help it, she loved him. 

Sabrina needed to find a new body to host the Devil. And fast. Until then, she would visit as often as she could to ensure that Nick was as comfortable as possible in light of the situation, to stroke his cheek and make sure he stayed strong and brave as he always had been, just until she could find a way to save him. 

She certainly didn’t come so often to see her damnable father, Satan. Not in the slightest. Although, more often than not the Devil was the person Sabrina ended up talking to, despite her sharp insistences that he bring forward her boyfriend. Now, Lucifer just laughed at her when she asked that, as if she were ridiculous to desire such a thing. It was apparent that Nick was getting too weak to fend off the Dark Lord’s hold over his consciousness. These days, her boyfriend lay sleeping in the depths of his being, too infirm to rouse, and Lucifer’s spirit took shape before Sabrina’s very eyes, taunting her with his silver-tongue and devious smiles. 

“Daughter,” the Devil grinned as she walked in, “I would clap my hands in delight if only I wasn’t so cruelly shackled.” 

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped bitterly, glaring daggers at him. 

As she might have expected, it wasn’t Nick’s fragile, slumped form that greeted her as she entered, rather it was her father who, despite his arduous confinement, remained as lean and graceful as ever. All the corners of the room were submerged in inky shadows, except for the immediate circle of flickering candlelight that illuminated the Devil’s face and his half-dressed figure, reclining on his elbows on the cold, wet stone. Lucifer’s eyes were never kind, but they weren’t sparking with his usual malice either. Even so, his muscles rippled beneath the skin with some tension that didn’t appear in his serene, smiling face. Like a mesmerizing viper waiting to strike. 

“Oh, my girl,” Lucifer sighed almost pleasantly, “how sweet it is to have such a kind and doting daughter who comes to see her poor old man day and night.” 

“I’m not doing this for you!” Sabrina retorted, bristling with rage, “How many times do I have to repeat myself before you get it through your thick skull? You’re trapped in the body of the boy I’m in love with, and I don’t care how humiliating it is, but I’m going to take care of him no matter what.” 

Lucifer glared at her for a moment, his thin veneer of pleasantness visibly cracking. The silence was pregnant as he soaked in her flushed appearance from head to foot with hard, yet almost leisurely, eyes. The water dripping off the vine laden stone walls made an ominous noise and filled the dark room with a dank stench. 

“Well, how pure-hearted of you,” Lucifer drawled after a moment, his lips quirking up at the sides for a split second, then he let out a dramatically drawn-out sigh, “I’m starting to think that perhaps a bit too much of my arch-angel side seeped into your blood. It’s rather pathetic, really,” Lucifer mourned, frowning theatrically, “I’m half expecting you to sprout white wings before my very eyes, Sabrina.” 

“Don’t get my hopes up,” Sabrina muttered, “maybe I could smother you with them.” 

Lucifer chuckled, “Don’t you have a job to do, little one?” 

As was his wont of late, Lucifer ironically mocked her. It was getting on every single one of Sabrina’s nerves but she didn’t dare back down. It wasn’t in her nature. 

“Not until you change back into Nick,” Sabrina said slowly, somehow mustering some patience from an almost completely dried up well within her. 

Lucifer grunted, as if bored of it all at once, “Shh, don’t you know he’s sleeping? Once he wakes up, he’s a pain to deal with, like a wailing baby. Let the poor thing rest, Sabrina.” 

Sabrina balled her hands into tight, white fists at her sides. Her hackles rose like a dog’s as she nearly growled down at her father, “Wake him up, Lucifer!” 

Her building magick, like electricity crackling through her veins, caused her white-blonde hair to rise at its ends and her eyes to blaze like tawny beacons in the dark. 

Lucifer seemed highly amused at the sight, his dark green eyes dancing as he acquiesced, surprisingly, “Fine, then, no need to get so touchy. But, you must promise me some one-on-one daddy-daughter time after, hm?” 

He chuckled deeply as she scoffed. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she breathed angrily, releasing her building magick with some difficulty as she unclenched her hands and shut her eyes tightly, forcing herself to calm. 

When Sabrina opened her eyes, opalescent amber in the firelight, it was Nick who peered up at her with his half-lidded gaze strewn with his matted, dark hair. 

“S-Sabrina,” he moaned. 

“Oh, Nick!” 

She rushed to his side, not caring if it was another one of the Devil’s cruel tricks. The urge to comfort her lover overwhelmed her. She kneeled next to him and took his face in her hands, kissing him earnestly and feeling him respond tenderly, if not weakly. 

“I miss you,” he murmured against her lips, “I can’t stand not being able to be with you.” 

“I’m with you now, Nick,” she replied tearfully.

“No,” he shook his head, “ _really_ with you. Just us.” 

Nick touched her hand, cradling it to his face as he shut his eyes tightly. He had suffered so much. She felt her heart lurch painfully, sympathy clenching her stomach like a vice. 

“I’m going to get him _out_ of you,” she said, “I’m going to save you, I promise.” 

“You already have, Sabrina,” he told her earnestly, his lips parted as if struggling for breath, “I could die now, and you still would’ve saved me. I-I’m so glad to love you.” 

She shushed him, brushing the hair away from his face, feeling her heart beat a frantic rhythm against her ribs and her breath come in short, painful bursts. 

“Don’t strain yourself,” she told him softly, “I’m going to wash you now.” 

He acquiesced, gratefully bowing his head and letting out a soft sigh. The candlelight brought his gaunt face into sharp, frightening relief. His eyes were like the cold stones he fixed his gaze upon, blank and lifeless. 

“ _Aquam Manibus_ ,” she chanted surely, despite her bubbling panic at Nick’s wretched state, “ _Aquam Manibus_!” 

The palms of her hands suddenly tickled her, coming to life with water magic, and she quickly ran her hands, laden with orbs of fresh water, over Nick’s trembling flesh, gently washing his sweating, muddied skin. As if it could clean away the stains that tarnished his suffering soul, soothe his heartaches along with the bodily ones. 

She hated her father with all of her heart. She hated that this was the option she allowed to come to fruition, for the Dark Lord to be imprisoned in the flesh of the only boy she truly adored, body and soul. She bit back her sobs, her eyes filling with hot tears, but she focused resolutely on her work. Running her soft hands over every inch of his warm, exposed flesh, like a soothing balm. 

Sabrina started washing down his thigh, only covered by thin, fraying shorts, when she first noticed it. 

What seemed to her to be the beginnings of a massive hoof started eating away at Nick’s sculpted calf like a disease. The mark of the beast. 

Sabrina swallowed her cry, forcing herself to look away lest Nick see her horror and feel shame or terror at her just reaction. _‘It just isn’t fair,’_ she grieved, gazing at the flickering candles which cast strange shadows across the room, her heart heavy with sadness. 

No, she couldn’t let herself give into misery. She would fix this by any means necessary, she just had to. 

The girl fixed a determined look on Nick’s dark head hung low with fatigue, feeling her heart lift in spirit as she devoted herself to completing her simple task. Sabrina’s hands worked down the strong calf, grazing over the half-hoof, biting her lip at its rough, unnatural texture and focusing intently on the disgustingly curious look of it despite herself. 

“That feels _so_ good, Sabrina,” moaned that terrible voice, “you have wonderful hands.”

“Satan,” Sabrina gasped, looking up to meet her Father’s icy gaze once more. Her hands stilled but remained on his demented flesh, turning cold inside and out. 

“Don’t mind me,” he said, flashing her an easy smile, “please, continue.” 

“I-I don’t want to,” she murmured, her eyes glimmering bright, doubtful, “I want Nick.” 

Sabrina knows she should have recoiled from him on the spot. Everything in her screamed that she should slap Lucifer, tear her hair out, step out of the circle of salt to where she was sure she’d be protected. But, instead, she froze like a deer in headlights. 

He said nothing; he did nothing. But it was the look on Lucifer’s face that started disassembling Sabrina, slowly, dissipating her will. Slightly parted lips, deep green eyes like a heady magick with no trace of animosity, his hair curling into his face and softening his features somewhat, somehow. He looked so _human_. So utterly nonthreatening. It was the most unnerving and exhilarating thing Sabrina had ever experienced. 

Perhaps it was because they were physically touching, only the thin veil of water parting them, his naked skin virtually pressed to her own was wildly intimate and frightening. Some sexual magick seemed to pour into her very pores as it emanated from his, delighting her senses, stupefying Sabrina to the truth of the matter: This was her father, for Hell’s sake, the monstrous Devil wrapped in the flesh of a fallen angel. He was a beautiful lie. 

“Perhaps your boy needs tending,” Lucifer drawled, his eyes alight like star-fire, “but I want it from you now. And I get what I want, Sabrina.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t give into your every desire,” Sabrina found her own voice saying, though it seemed to float, small and timid, from somewhere behind her, herself being sucked into the look those dark green eyes fixed on her, her hands rooted to his too-warm skin, the simple touch filling her head with a fog, “m-maybe I won’t let you.” 

“I’m completely at your whims, Sabrina,” he said with a laugh, jangling his chains of Damascus steel as if to illustrate his point, the sarcastic hints barely perceptible in his voice, “don't you like that?” 

He didn’t wait for her response, sitting up suddenly, getting so close they could’ve shared breaths, but Sabrina found that she held hers in stubbornly, her chest aching from the strain. 

“Go on,” Lucifer urged her, the husky tones of his voice rushing over her like a wave washed over the shore, “clean daddy up.” 

Sabrina felt herself flush hot with embarrassment. Some part of her, growing ever smaller, wanted desperately to resist his allure. But her hands seemed to act of their own volition, travelling up his misshapen calf towards his thigh, washing him with leisurely strokes of her water-soaked hands. She trembled ever so slightly, but willed herself to be still and look brave before his eyes, adding slight pressure until she was almost massaging his skin and the taut muscles beneath. 

Lucifer let out a shaky sigh, clearly satisfied, his eyes burning into the back of her wavy-blonde head as she worked up, up, up. 

Sabrina felt as if her sanity was slipping from her grip as surely as water trickled down the path that her hands made, wetting every perfect inch of Lucifer, slow as molasses. Her breath came in short bursts, a flame starting low in her belly and licking devilish tongues of desire in her warm center, causing her to squirm slightly. She wanted more of the Dark Lord, suddenly. As fiercely as she despised Lucifer, she desired him, it seemed. It made her burn hot with shame. Nevertheless, Sabrina took a backseat as her body drove her recklessly, on and on into madness. 

She halted before she got to the private region she truly wanted to grasp in her hands, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes flickered upwards to meet Lucifer’s gaze, his ever-present smile quirking his lips lazily, though his nostrils flared and his eyes scorched like twin torches, committing her face to memory as lust silently and subtly overtook him. 

“It seems that someone likes their men chained and bound,” Lucifer remarked. 

Sabrina gasped, “No, I don’t!” 

“Oh, I forgot,” he chuckled, “my very pure little girl. Tell me, have you let anyone touch you since I first took you, in baptism?” 

“No,” Sabrina whispered hotly, after a moment’s hesitation, “and I’m not interested in talking to you about this.” 

She felt her hatred building once more in her belly, choking vines strangling her insides. He had considered the dark baptism in his name to be the symbolic taking of her virginity. That was worlds away from what they were both thinking of now, though, the signing away of her soul was almost innocent in comparison. Despite her mounting frustration, Sabrina couldn’t help but continue her ministrations, starting on the other leg and thoroughly washing her father with deft hands, enjoying his warmth and hardness despite herself. 

“Not interested…” Lucifer mimicked, “in talking to me?” 

She glared at him, her frown speaking volumes, but never stopping her gentle, soothing caresses. 

“Oh, I see,” he breathed, disappointment lacing his voice, “well, I can think of something better to do with those pretty little lips of yours.” 

Before she knew it, the Devil was leaning in closely, a mischievous smile gracing his lips. He looked every bit the evil she knew him to be, wading in the dark depths of his wicked lasciviousness, dragging her down with him where she would surely come undone. 

Sabrina shoved his broad shoulders away with all the force of her small body, though the Dark Lord didn’t budge far at all, hardly an inch. The smile never parted from his lips. 

“What about Nick?” she accused, remembering herself at last. 

“He’s sleeping, daughter,” Lucifer rolled his eyes, “does the fact I want to taste you, even in private, offend your delicate sensibilities?” 

“Y-Yes,” she cried, “for so many reasons! It’s utterly immoral.” 

“Right and wrong are human constructs meant to keep the strong at bay,” the Dark Lord replied easily. 

“Well,” Sabrina racked her brain for possible responses, “what about your plans to subjugate both races I belong to? W-What about the False God and _His_ morals?” 

“ _God?_ ” Lucifer nearly cackled, his eyes widening manically large, “do you think He cares about what I do to my daughter, she who has already signed her soul away to me? He has abandoned much hope for humanity by now. I could gobble up a thousand innocent souls in a single hour before His grace even touches the Earth.” 

Sabrina swallowed thickly, her voice eking out in a painful whimper, “I can’t.” 

“I could force you,” Lucifer told her, his voice as biting and cold as a wintry wind, his eyes like clear green ice. 

Sabrina wanted to say, _‘you wouldn’t dare,’_ but the words withered and died on her lips. He most certainly would. Would she, could she, even stop Lucifer if he tried? 

“All I want is a simple kiss, Sabrina,” he told her, taking on a pseudo-kind tone, “just show me you’re still mine.” 

“I’ll never be yours,” the blonde-headed witch snapped bitterly. Her lusty, hazy illusion broke as suddenly as it descended upon her, like misty veils parting in one fell swoop; the water from her hands bursts like balloons, drenching his thighs with water bubbling hot from her building anger. 

He seemed for the most part unfazed by the boiling water which scorched his skin red-hot, grimacing and grunting only a small bit. He threaded his fingers in the hair at the nape of Sabrina’s neck, tugging her in close forcefully so she sprawled across his lap, his growl filling her ears and sending a cold shiver through her from head to toe. 

“Only one moment, Sabrina, that’s all I need to make you mine,” he said, his voice hard, edged by his fearful sneer. 

Sabrina felt his lips press hotly to hers before she could utter a protest. Her heart surged as if begging her to push him away, beating against her ribs for freedom, but it’s frantic pace eventually dissipated all the fight from her spirit, as she melted into the warmth and wetness of his freshly-licked lips, where desire transformed her fear into much more welcome excitement. He was so soft, so inviting, expertly nibbling and licking until she granted him entrance into the warm recess of her candy-red mouth. Lucifer worked his smooth magic into the very fabric of her being, as their tongues entwined hotly, his forked-tongue a strange but not unpleasant sensation, eliciting a gasp that seemed to reverberate through Sabrina’s aching bones, rousing her desire to wakefulness once more. 

She moaned like a feral cat, low and wantonly, not believing that sound came from her at all. As if in response, Lucifer growled low in his throat like an animal, she felt it resonate in her own mouth and vibrate against her tongue, causing heat to pool deep within her. He clutched her small-figure ever tighter to himself, until their bodies were flushed together, her softness cradled to his iron strength, her cold complimented by his burning hot. 

Lucifer parted for air, for a split-second, gazing into her lust-filled eyes with an unreadable expression, as if searching for something; his lips were tinted an alluring shade of dark, wet pink. He ran his smooth hands along the length of her petite body, seemingly relishing every touch, before he dove back in with gusto, making a sinfully pleased sound when he found that she was open and welcoming him eagerly. Lucifer mapped out Sabrina’s lips, mouth, with tender, massaging caresses of his tongue, as if to reward her for her good behaviour. 

Sabrina, through her fevered haze, recognized that Lucifer was hardening insistently beneath her, though he made no move to satisfy his obvious arousal as of yet. Almost unconsciously, the young witch started rutting against the Devil slightly, her delicate, questioning little wiggles turning to outright riding him through the thin fabric of his worn shorts, with long strokes of her hips set to drive him to a frenzy. 

He grunted forcefully, closing his eyes tightly for a moment, sucking in a short breath, as if the feel of her movements against his erection was far better than he expected -- he looked as if he were battling against the overwhelming desire to take her right then and there and found that he could barely restrain himself. Sabrina smirked to herself, dangerously self-satisfied, half-mad with unprecedented concupiscence, unthinking of the disgraceful direction to which they were headed. 

Before they were lead any further down this dark path, Lucifer stilled her movements with strong, unforgiving hands on her hips. 

“Little _harlot_ ,” he breathed, his eyes narrowing like slits in hard rock, revealing cold, glimmering emeralds from the deep, “I haven’t resisted temptation since before my fall from grace, yet I find myself refusing you.” 

“Why?” Sabrina mourned, low and long, before she could catch herself, blushing furiously as a result. 

Lucifer chuckled at that, seemingly genuinely amused at her childish disappointment. 

“Because if I am to have you,” he said seriously, “really _own_ you, I want you to be sure that you are willing to give me everything. You look like a half-crazed teenage girl right now, drunk off the barest taste of sex.” 

Sabrina frowned severely, feeling anger and shame oppress her mercilessly. What, did he believe that she was too high off hormones to think straight? Too stupid to know what she wanted? _‘Fuckin’ Satan,’_ she cursed him mentally, leaning in to kiss him again unwittingly. 

“No, Sabrina,” he halted her with a slender finger to her eager, searching lips, “I’ll have you sometime soon, body and soul, but not yet.” 

Sabrina paused, feeling her stomach drop to the level of her knees. _‘Wait, what did he just say?’_ she thought, blanching in horror as she belatedly realized the impact of their situation, _‘what the Heaven am I doing?’_

Lucifer must have read her look and discerned her thoughts, because he offered her a sardonic grin. “As I suspected,” he chuckled humorlessly, “my little girl is so foolish, but she will be _mine_.” 

Sabrina scrambled off Lucifer’s lap, dusting off her dress in a weak attempt at some control and trembling with mortification, her cheeks tinted the same deep shade of red as her lips. He leaned back once more, sizing her up with the obvious remnants of his unbridled lust. Before he could cut her with another statement of ownership, Sabrina turned on her heels and ran, tears streaking down her face as she stumbled through the dark. Even as she ran away from Lucifer her soul cried out to be his, her body aching fiercely in desire to be possessed by that fearsome, horrible creature, longing for that moment when her lungs couldn’t cry out his name anymore in ecstatic abandon. 

What had she done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be going to Hell for this one-shot, but if daddy Satan indeed has some serious cakes (as[s] portrayed in the series), then you know where to find me in the afterlife. 
> 
> Guys, if you liked this, please let me know! If I get enough people leaving kudos and comments, I'll extend the fic into a multi-chapter work. 
> 
> Thanks a lot!
> 
>  **Edit:** _Aquam Manibus_ \-- literally "water hands" in Latin.


	2. Chapter 2

Sabrina couldn’t bring herself to visit Nick after what happened, for fear of what she would do if and _when_ she saw her father. She wanted to torture Lucifer, to somehow wound him as deeply as he did her. Monstrous feelings of degradation and humiliation polluted her insides, a result of her father’s kiss and declarations of demented ownership over her. She wanted to make similar sentiments fester in him, somehow. How dare he bring her under his sensuous spell, trick her into submitting to him in lust and forsaking her love for Nick, he who had suffered so much for her? 

_‘Oh, Nick. How could I do this to you?’_ Sabrina let this terrible refrain fill her head, sinking her further and further in shame, as she went through her regular high school days, going through the motions like a ghost tread familiar paths over and over again after a traumatic death. _‘I really am his daughter,’_ she thought miserably, _‘I am pure evil.’_

Despite her remorse, the young witch wasn’t completely freed of those depraved, ravenous appetites that bound her to her father. No matter how much she willed herself against it mentally, her traitorous body longed to be possessed by Satan in carnal pleasure. Sabrina was afraid that if she saw Lucifer in the flesh, she would sink into the those sinful pleasures he offered her, like a helpless coin thrown in a well, swallowed by the deep, terrible black. The welcome oblivion from her fears and pains that Lucifer’s caresses had brought her, though submerged in darkness and danger, was the sweetest superstition she had ever encountered. In the thrill of his touch, it was as if he weren’t the incarnation of all evil and the bane of her existence, but an infinite dispenser of sensuous delights previously unknown to her. 

Lucifer’s face was burned into Sabrina’s memory, like the sun stained streaks of colour across her closed lids; his handsome image, blurred into softness, no longer carrying their frightening, sharp edges, haunted her both day and night. If she could only keep her eyes open, the Devil vanished, like a hazy dark spot. He lived in her dreams and stalked the shadows of her peripherals, so she kept herself awake at all times. But, with no sleep to dampen the days, Sabrina ached and agonized the hours, and she felt her mind slipping further into the darkness along with him. Sabrina’s eyes turned as red as the setting sun which greeted the night, heavy upon the horizon, forever frozen in the moment before slumber. 

After a few days of utter torment, and much worrying from her friends and family, Sabrina decided that enough was enough. Tomorrow, she would visit him. If she could, she would redeem herself to Nick, apologize for her absence profusely, though she would spare him from the painful details as to why she was forced to abandon him in his hour of need. Most critically, she would punish the Devil for his transgressions, make him see that she didn’t belong to him, not now and not ever. 

Lying down amongst her cotton-cloud bed sheets, surrounded by comforting darkness, Sabrina didn’t allow the quiet peace to settle her; she bore holes into the ceiling with her eyes and cursed herself for her stupidity. But, she knew in her heart that all she could do was move forward and do better in the future. After resolutely deciding to handle the situation, the troubled teen eventually let herself drift off to sleep, curling in on herself like a babe in the womb.

 _Sabrina was spinning, spinning wildly, into something much larger than herself. The gaping maws of a black hole, colossal like the Titans of old, seemed to swallow her entirely. She was dreaming. She knew she was dreaming. But it all felt so real, dizzying and terrifying, like the time the world flipped on its head and she went pouring into the stratosphere like spilled milk._

_Soon, she felt as if she landed delicately, as light as a feather. Her mortal coil enfolded her spirit once more in its familiar embrace. She heard a somber, lilting tune, tickling her ears like whispers in the dark, filling her with quiet dread. Her body swayed to the rhythm, guided by some unseen force, whirling her in a slow, macabre waltz. She felt like a puppet manipulated by an unseen master, whose hands were profoundly skilled, leading her as if harnessing the light of the moon, in an elegant and fluid manner, soaked in magick._

_She realized the darkness she waded in was internal. Sabrina could open her eyes, expose herself to the light. But, uncharacteristically, she felt afraid. Something was terribly wrong and she was in danger. She stamped down her fear fiercely and opened her eyes to a kaleidoscope of colour all around her, as if she were looking out a star-ship window whilst hurtling at light speed. She swallowed her overwhelming confusion and stark, blank terror, and forced herself to focus. The startling whirlpool of starlight started to slow, evening out to predominantly purple galaxies swirling amongst a host of other colours, a galactic painting palette that didn’t leave an inch of space not swimming with stars._

_Sabrina was as milk-white as moonlight, and he, her unlikely suitor, harnessing her like a beam from a celestial body in the palm of his hands, was dark and saturnine. His teeth were displayed in a wide grin, at one moment, lovingly, the next, wolfish and fang-like. His eyes darkened and brightened like kodak cameras:_ blink-click, blink-click, _committing her expressions and acts to memory._

_She recognized her father. Her lover. Her enemy._

_The music they danced to was the sound of the silence of the vacuum of space. Galaxies grinding against each other, asteroids hurtling in wide orbits, stars colliding, suns imploding -- the melody of birth and death, beginning and end, alpha and omega. The eternal beings, cosmic dancers, made sweet delight of those perennial sounds; him entrapping her in endless euphoria, allowing her to partake of the infinitude of his nature._

_“This could have been ours, Sabrina,” Lucifer told her, bringing her closer to him, mimicking their dance on the fateful day that she and her coven had betrayed him, “we could’ve ruled the Earth, Hell, and everything beyond.”_

_“You’re lying,” she said firmly, “you don’t have that much power.”_

_“With you by my side, my dear,” he whispered close to her ear, almost menacingly, “and all creatures bending to our every whim, we would have been unstoppable.”_

_Sabrina sighed, leaning into Lucifer’s warm breath on her cheek, like a flower bends towards the golden rays of the sun. With him, Sabrina felt that she was reduced to a bundle of sensitive nerves, waiting to be excited and brought to life by his every touch._

_“You love the thought of my power, daughter,” the Dark Lord smirked, “everything I’ve given to you, you have relished like food to the starved. I could bestow you the gifts of the universe, Sabrina, if only you’ll submit to me. Give me everything.”_

_“No, no,” Sabrina denied him immediately, shaking her head, that dizzy feeling coming back in full force, “this is wrong.”_

_“What’s so wrong? You desire this like you do the air,” he nearly snickered at her, his green eyes which delved into hers glimmering with an infinitude of angelic energy, “you desire me even more so.”_

_“You own my soul, maybe it’s crying out to you,” the spell-bound witch murmured, “maybe my body yearns for the source of its power. But my mind knows of your evil and it rules the rest of me.”_

_“Beautiful words,” he said, quirking a brow, “but so naive.”_

_They had stopped dancing, suspended in limitless space. His arms never relinquished their firm hold, wrapped about Sabrina’s waist, pressing her to his midsection. Lucifer smiled down at his daughter, and she looked up at him with enmity darkening her hazel gaze like brewing storm clouds._

_“You’ll give in to me,” he assured her, hugging her as closely as the stars kissed the night sky, “and it will be the best thing you have ever done, I assure you.”_

_Sabrina wanted to retort something cynical, but once more, he interrupted her with the press of his lips. Just like that, Sabrina was off again like a spinning top, feeling as if she were being lead in another celestial dance, braced in his arms, spurred on by Lucifer’s affection. He invaded her with his forked-tongue, bleeding cosmic colours into her shut-eyed vision, causing her heart to soar like a shooting star._

_Lucifer sucked her bottom lip gently into his mouth, biting it until he drew blood, licking and healing the wound immediately with his infernal magick. Sabrina felt as if he had swallowed every bit of her dissent along with those sanguine drops, replacing it with a desire so terrible and fierce that she could do naught but whimper, lost in the feeling. As if sensing her needs, Lucifer let his hand snake down her torso, lifting her white, airy dress and delving beneath to find her naked and exposed, wet and wanting. He let out a muffled chuckle, his tongue never ceasing those maddening strokes, seemingly relishing the taste and feel of her. His exploring fingers expertly skirted across her aching clitoris, light, teasing touches, making her groan in frustration._

_“Please… please,” Sabrina murmured incoherently, in between kisses. She needed more, so much more._

_“Say you want me,” Lucifer ordered her, breaking away from her lips, his voice a guttural moan, his fingers rubbing smooth circles over her most sensitive area._

_“Yes, yes, yes, daddy,” she almost sobbed. Sabrina felt herself come undone, like putty in his hands. He could have taken her in this moment and she would have been a puddle of heat, bubbling encouragements, all for his pleasure. “I want you so badly, I’m burning with want.”_

_At this, Lucifer hummed with immense satisfaction, but it was not in his usually elegant, slightly mischievous tone. It was guttural, feral, like the sound rippling from a predator’s throat that had cornered its kill after the thrill of the chase._

_“I’ll be your angel of small death,” Lucifer rasped, one hand wrapping about Sabrina's throat, the other slipping two fingers into her warm sheath, maddening her with slow, ‘come hither’ motions, “your creature of blessed torment.”_

_Sabrina threw her head back, crying out, having never been touched this way before by another. It was bliss, enfolded in the stars, being breached so intimately by him. Lucifer’s long, deft fingers pushed and pulled, in and out of her repeatedly, his thumb never stopping those little circles on her hypersensitive nub, which built pressure in her arching higher and higher, like a bow strung deliciously taut._

_Lucifer’s lips pressed hot and wet against Sabrina’s cheek, a tender kiss; the shape of his body fitting hers was real, yet Sabrina felt she was surging back to Earth, and he was suddenly as cold and distant as the pinwheeling stars. Consumed in his own fire and suspended in a weightless space. She was falling, falling, away from him. She wanted to stay with Lucifer. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to reach that mountainous height and fall off the edge with him, only with him._

Sabrina awoke in her own bed, her thighs drenched with her arousal, her face burning hot from the residual passion of her dream. She was experiencing a hazy afterglow, as if she had had an orgasm in her sleep. At her father’s hands, no less. She felt oppressed by an insurmountable weight, the burden of her immense attraction to Lucifer; it felt like death encroaching over her once simple life. The blonde-headed witch hugged her knees tightly to her chest, resting her sweating forehead against them, focusing on breathing calmly and slowing the erratic beating of her heart. She banished the lingering thoughts of the Dark Lord from her head, locking him in a corner of her mind as best as she could, and eventually she drifted off again into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. 

When she awoke early the next day, a bright and beautiful Saturday morning, Sabrina wasted no time in getting ready and heading straight to the Academy. Her internal mantra was one of encouragement, telling herself that she was strong and capable of fending off the Dark Lord’s advances. She was a Spellman, for Hell’s sake, and she would not be brought to her knees so easily. Moreover, she was Nick’s only hope and comfort in the bleak terror of his experience. 

Sabrina marched into the cell where Nick was trapped, her head held high. Of course, Nick was not the one she found there. She focused intently on her father’s shadowed face, floating ghostly in the semi-dark. Sabrina internally smothered the feelings of shame and embarrassment that kindled in her center, as Lucifer’s emerald eyes alighted on her with a look of smug merriment. He was sitting cross-legged in the circle of salt and candles, resting on the palms of his hands, which were splayed behind him somewhat awkwardly due to the chains that fettered him. His chiseled torso glimmered like melting wax in the flickering candlelight, his wide smile glowing hauntingly like the Cheshire cat. 

“There you are,” Lucifer greeted her lowly, “I missed you, lover.” 

“Shut up,” Sabrina bit out, instantly aggravated, “you’re insufferable.” 

“That’s a rude way to address me,” Lucifer retorted indignantly, almost petulantly, “considering what transpired between us last night.” 

Sabrina blanched, coldness seeping into her bones like glacier melt. The Dark Lord couldn’t possibly know about her latest dream, could he? That was utterly unthinkable. 

“I haven’t been here in four days,” the young witch said, false confidence strengthening her tone, “is your imprisonment finally affecting your sanity, Lucifer?” 

“I’m getting wiser by the day, actually,” the Dark Lord said dryly, “and you all the more wanton, I think. Tell me, why is it that you melt in my arms whenever we dance together?” 

Sabrina felt her heart skip a beat. She clamped her mouth shut, lest she say something stupid in her anger and fear. She couldn’t accept the possibility that Lucifer was able to climb into her head like that and tamper with her thoughts. It was a terrifying likelihood that stared directly at her, like luminous eyes peering at her threateningly from the dark, and she just had to turn her face away or risk losing her mind. 

The blonde-headed witch was sick and tired of being treated like a plaything, a mute and pretty doll, in Satan’s careless hands. He handled her like a prized chess piece, moving her too and fro to achieve his own wicked ends, cruelly manipulating her emotions and ambitions as he saw fit. Perhaps, it was all just for his own twisted amusement, which was the worst possibility of all. Sabrina didn’t want to think about that. 

“Shy, are we?” Lucifer continued, slightly displeased by Sabrina's prolonged silence, however using it as an opportunity to further deride her, “let me think, does it have something to do with how much you want to fuck dear old dad?” 

“Screw you!” Sabrina erupted suddenly, pointing an accusatory figure at the Devil, as her face twisted with scorn, “you’re not privy to my thoughts, you know nothing about me, so don’t invade my dreams because they don’t mean a single thing.” 

“Peace, Sabrina,” Lucifer implored her, leaning forward and holding up his shackled hands in a gesture of surrender, “your rage is a wonder to behold, but I much prefer other… sentiments.” 

Sabrina stalked forward unthinkingly and struck Lucifer across the face, her open hand leaving a stinging, red mark across his cheek. The room rang with the audible force of her blow. But just as quickly as it came, the mark faded from view, that incessant smile twisting Lucifer's lips growing ever more malignant and deep-seated on his otherwise handsome countenance.

The Dark Lord laughed derisively, “Well, that one will certainly damage your precious, little boy. How unfortunate for you both.” 

Sabrina gasped, clutching the offending hand to her chest. She was suddenly wracked with trembling. How could she forget that Lucifer was bound in the prison of Nick’s flesh? Everything she did to pain her father would only end up hurting her boyfriend. 

“I thought you said he was sleeping?” Sabrina said almost timidly, the sheer shock of her abrupt turn of mood causing her knees to weaken a little. 

“Hm,” Lucifer thought for a moment, his voice suspiciously light, “oh yes, that was a lie. He hasn’t slept in ages. He’s a constant nuisance, believe me.” 

Sabrina felt tears welling in her eyes, her stomach twisting in painful knots. She didn’t want to believe those words. She couldn’t even remember why she came here in the first place. Everything was a mess of confusion, pain, and regret. 

“So, the other day when we?...” her voice quivered pathetically and trailed off into nothingness, an empty and frightful silence. 

“He was a very unhappy observer,” Lucifer admitted, after a moment, “his wailing gave me a headache, but it was all very much worth it. I won’t soon forget that first taste of you, Sabrina.” 

Sabrina gaped at him, feeling her life as she knew it fall to the wayside and die. She was mortified, and so, so angry, she couldn’t even suck in a breath, she was so filled with emotion. All her love had gone to waste, torn to shreds in a single moment of reckless desire. She had probably destroyed Nick completely; she couldn’t even begin to imagine his pain -- she had reaped pleasure from his torturer while he was forced to watch. Sabrina hated herself so much that she could have ripped herself apart, piece by piece; in a moment of sheer panic she desired an intense physical pain that would mean her end, as it was less than the agony of her own betrayal. The only thing that dissuaded her from complete self-annihilation was how vehemently she despised Lucifer and wanted to see him suffer. 

“That reminds me,” Lucifer intoned, his eyes glowing like hellfire, “Nick has a message for you.” 

“What?” Sabrina asked meekly, a single tear travelling its lonely path down her cheek; hatred intermixed with misery brewed in her eyes, like bubbling, bronze ichor in cauldrons. 

The Dark Lord paused for what seemed like a cruelly extended amount of time, soaking in her anguish, before whispering to Sabrina conspiratorially, “He hates you, and if he sees you again, he promises he’ll kill you.” 

At that, the Devil smiled widely: a malevolent, hellish smile that betrayed his true nature, seeping through the cracks of his beautiful visage like so much venom. This was a creature born from Heaven but meant for Hell. In Sabrina’s eyes, Lucifer had never seemed more in his element than in this moment, giggling almost maniacally as Sabrina came apart before his eyes, falling to her knees and hiding her wretched face in her hands. 

“Don’t fret, Sabrina,” he told her in a lofty voice, mockingly paternal, “daddy will comfort you.” 

“Don’t touch me!” Sabrina screamed when he laid a hand on her shoulder. 

The Devil didn’t back off, not in the slightest. In fact, he pulled a violently unwilling Sabrina from her position with enormous strength and cradled her to his chest, tucking his chin over the crown of her head, so her face nestled in the crook of his neck. She struggled wildly at first in his grip, but Lucifer was unrelenting, an iron cage that held her like a flighty bird. Sabrina's tears wet his skin, her sobs wracked her like a ship at stormy sea, but Lucifer wouldn’t let her pull away. After what felt like an eternity, when she had calmed somewhat, the Dark Lord stroked her hair softly and whispered sweet nothings to her, seemingly a mockery of a lover’s tender, soothing devotion. 

“It’ll be alright, little one,” he assured her quietly, “you’re meant for greatness; _my_ greatness. He is nothing.” 

Sabrina laughed without humour, the acerbic sound muffled against his skin. “Kiss my ass,” she murmured with some heat, but she felt as weak as a lamb. 

Lucifer let out a long-suffering sigh. 

“You can go now,” he relented softly, after a minute, “I know you’ll come back to me. You always will.” 

As soon as his hold lessened, even fractionally, Sabrina pulled away and shot up to her feet. She leveled Lucifer the most harrowing, wilt-the-flowers-in-spring look that she had ever mustered in her life, not the least bit lessened in intensity by her smeared makeup, puffy eyes, and ruddy complexion. Lucifer frowned at her, clearly deeply displeased by her expression, and that was the last Sabrina saw of him before walking, stiff-legged, away from the scene of her disassembly and the cruelest most cursed creature to have ever been dragged into existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! You guys really responded quickly, I'm so pleased. It's so heartening to find that there are other's out there who love this ship as much as I do. 
> 
> There's a lot of space imagery in this chapter, I'm a sucker for it. Also, a lot of angst, which I also am a total sucker for. If I continue this even further, I do promise more smutty and fluffy nonsense, because who doesn't love a Devil with a sexy and sweet side? 
> 
> Kudos and comments make the writer's life a happy one, so please do so! Seriously, I love it. And thanks a lot, because your responses are what inspired me to keep writing. 
> 
> **Angel of Small Death:** a great Hozier song, also in French "petite mort" refers to the aftershocks of an orgasm. Ha!


	3. Chapter 3

Sabrina lounged across the king’s lap as leisurely as a cat bathed in the sun. They were both seated in the same ghastly throne, piled high with the bones of the humans they had slaughtered, a mute-eyesore, ash grey in the golden torchlight. The throne room stretched far and wide, pierced with numerous fingers of dark shadows, devoid of all creatures except for Lilith, Sabrina’s handmaiden, and a few brawny demons who acted as sentinels for the king and queen. Lilith was stony and silent by their side, resigned to her duties, yet mentally absent. 

Basking in each other’s presence, uncaring of their discreet observers, Sabrina and Lucifer chased the stars that danced in each other’s eyes. The Dark Lord fed Sabrina a dark, heady wine from a jeweled goblet, urging her to take much more than her fill, laughing brightly as the ichor spilled from the corners of her vermilion, flower-bud lips. She was dazed on drunkenness, held in his lap like one would carry a spoiled child, looking up at him with doe-eyes warm enough to melt the iciest of hearts. 

Lucifer, fair and bold, was a fit mate for such a dainty little pet, who in her looseness took exceeding joy; there could not have been found a more promiscuous paramour to make companion of her lewder parts. Even in the public sphere of the throne room, Lucifer’s free hand explored Sabrina’s scantily clothed body, like a devotee worshiping every inch of an idol. 

The Dark Lord drank deeply of the goblet himself, polishing it off at once and throwing it away carelessly; Sabrina heard it clatter against the stone floor and giggled. He smilingly bent down to kiss her with sweet-tasting lips, licking away the excess wine spilling from her chin. Even in her inebriated haze, Sabrina was taken aback by his tenderness, as if she were as chaste as a virgin-child, timid and delicate, he met her with quiet modesty. Sabrina was the one who deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms about Lucifer’s broad shoulders, parting her lips to allow him further access into her mouth, spreading her legs shamelessly to guide his travelling hands to where she wanted him most desperately to venture. 

Lucifer pulled back after a moment, chuckling with a slightly astonished, opalescent gaze, his lips alluringly ruddy. Though, to Sabrina’s immense pleasure, one practiced hand did slip into the band of her frilly, sheer-skirt, his other hand massaging her breast through her matching black bustier. 

“Always full of surprises,” Lucifer murmured, quite appreciatively, “each passing day, you become more and more daring, my queen.” 

Her lips like rubies, her teeth like pearls; Sabrina’s words dripped from her sweet and shining, a silvery sound, like waning starlight, “What are you going to do about it, daddy?” 

Sabrina was aware that all eyes were on her, she felt them burning into her alabaster flesh. Curious gazes leveled at her blatant display of lust, as cautiously as possible lest they evoke the Dark Lord’s jealous wrath. Sabrina felt Lilith seethe by her side and stare unabashedly at the couple, steeped in burning envy. The wanton witch felt excited by all the attention, wanting her father to seize her right then and there as they all watched. 

Lucifer could easily read her intentions, and with a playful growl dove in to make her fantasies come to life, kissing Sabrina with rapt desire, while his hands never ceased kneading those most sensitive parts of her. Sabrina let her keens, budding in intensity, fill the silence of the throne room, her own hands reaching beneath Lucifer’s loose-fitting poet shirt, raising the skin of his back with her nails to elicit his sharp groans. Her father slipped his long fingers into her with ease, spreading them inside her deliciously, delving back and forth with some gentleness, yet building eagerness. Moans slipped from Sabrina like cheerful melodies, his ministrations adding density to the sweet fog that already filled her head. 

But, just as her pleasure started building to a perfect crescendo, as if to spite them both, someone came barging into the room, the double-doors slamming at the far end of the hall, footfalls echoing starkly against the high-arched ceiling. Lucifer was forced to pull out and away from his queen with an infuriated snarl. 

Sabrina felt frustration fill her to the brim, making her want to scream out loud, to release the pent-up pressure that choked her from the inside out like strangling vines. She felt as if she had been brought to this brink many times before, only to be cruelly denied, but she couldn’t place where this feeling came from. Lucifer had filled her bed for years by now, hadn’t he? The queen felt as needy and unsated as a virgin, somehow. 

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Lucifer gnashed out, the anger in his voice as sharp and barely concealed as a sheathed blade. 

Despite the interruption, he hadn’t forgotten Sabrina: he lifted his fingers from between her thighs, sopping with her wetness, and brought them to the girl’s mouth for her to taste. Obediently, and more than a little aroused by the act, Sabrina brought those elegant fingers into her warm mouth, licking and sucking them clean of her sticky arousal. Lucifer cast her a sidelong glance, smirking enticingly. 

“I apologize, your majesties,” an orcish-looking, minor demon wailed, bowing deeply and trembling with fear, “but the… the criminals I told you about, they are set for execution today, and you said you wanted to see them beforehand.” 

At this, Lucifer’s head snapped up to glare at the demon. 

Sabrina looked up at Satan’s stark profile from beneath her dark lashes, still circling his fingers with her tongue. He seemed to clench his jaw tightly, gloomy thoughts rippling the calm of his moss-green eyes. With a curt smile her way, he removed the fingers from her mouth, kissing her lightly on the top of her silvery-blonde head. 

“Very well,” Lucifer exhaled after a moment, assuming an air of almost fearsome majesty, turning back to the offending demon. His grip on Sabrina's body resumed its previous position, refusing to release her indefinitely from his rather lewd hold: one large hand spanned across her supple breasts, the other snaked between her warm thighs. Sabrina was glad she was flexible, otherwise she couldn’t possibly have held this position for long, entrapped in his lecherous embrace and the admittedly grand, but nevertheless limiting, throne. 

The demon simpered nervously and clapped his hands thrice, as if to signal to someone. Immediately afterwards, three humans came stumbling through the door, bound heavily with iron chains. The unhappy trio were all but dragged up to the throne by an enormous demon that looked like a scarecrow, emaciated and bent at awkward angles, fit to bring forth a proper scare from even the most courageous of humans. One by one, the demon violently threw the ragged prisoners to the floor, his supernatural strength bone-cracking in its force. 

Sabrina did something that felt unnatural, but all the same, completely necessary. She struggled out of the Dark Lord’s grip, meeting considerable resistance from him, his displeased hum filling her ears, but she didn’t care. The young queen sat up, perched on the edge of his knees. These humans…. 

Roz, Theo, and Harvey lay prostrate before the throne, chins to the floor, their eyes wide and bulging, their pale lips quivering in fear. They looked as if they didn’t recognize Sabrina, or didn’t dare beg her for help in their most dire moment of need. Every time one of them shifted, even slightly, the tremendously tall, skeletal demon delivered a sharp, bony kick that effectively stilled them, evoking piercing cries of pain from their throats. 

Sabrina felt terribly confused and sunk back into the Dark Lord’s strong chest, her hand snaking up to caress his cheek. Her voice was pitifully lost and small, sounding unrecognizable even to herself, as she craned her neck to whisper to the king, “I feel like I know them, somehow.” 

“My love,” Lucifer crooned, grasping her lily-white hand firmly in his much larger, much stronger one and pulling it away from his face, “would it displease you greatly if I dispensed with them?” 

“I don’t know,” Sabrina admitted, her brows furrowing, some small part of her begging desperately to voice something, but she did not know what. Her heart ached with some inexplicable emotion that made her feel sick to her stomach. 

“They are worms, Sabrina. Fit to be crushed underfoot,” the Dark Lord continued, perhaps sensing her acute distress, “you are half mortal, yes, but your internal hellfires alight your spirit with incredible strength; the only use they could ever be to you is if they became fodder for your righteous flames.” 

Sabrina cast her wintry, distant gaze over to her old friends, who indeed looked pitiable to a fault; they had aged without grace in the decade since she had been crowned queen, while she herself remained eternally youthful and enviably pretty. They were muddied, bloodied, littered with purple bruises and lashes, both old and new; their eyes betrayed their fear, but also a distinct sense of lifelessness, as if death would be a welcome respite from the shackles that bound them in slavery. They had been tormented by demons, forced into cruel and humiliating labour, and she had let it all happen without much ado. Only to gorge herself on power, on sin, on _him_. 

Sabrina wasn’t Sabrina. She knew herself, but she was missing; this was not her. 

And she realized with a falling feeling that no matter where she was, whether in a throne room drenched in lust, or in the endless universe full of stars, it was all in her mind. And Lucifer corrupted her thoughts, asleep or waking, with his terrible spell over her. 

“What charges have been laid against them?” the young queen asked, her voice commanding and regal, freer now that she was aware that she was dreaming and could recognize her stricken friends. Sabrina wanted to siphon answers from Lucifer, perhaps he thought that she was oblivious to the fact that he had seeped into her head to poison her dream. She could use this to her advantage. 

But, Sabrina couldn’t help but wonder with slight panic how many times Lucifer had invaded her dreams, with her left unaware, easily polluting her from the inside out? She shelved this unwelcome thought for later, swallowing thickly. 

Lucifer’s hard eyes studied Sabrina intently, loosening his gentle hold on her hand, his grip returning to her thigh and tightening with bruising force: a gesture of fierce possessiveness, abandoning pretenses of affection. His icy green gaze held no trace of the happy, if naughty, lover she would have gladly given herself to only minutes before. 

“Any number of offences could be attributed to these wretches,” Lucifer stated harshly, “but, they have been caught red-handed this time, thieving bread. They hide together in holes like rats, sustained off stolen crumbs.” 

“You would have them burn,” Sabrina said slowly, careful to make sure that she didn’t betray too much feeling in her voice, “for stealing bread when they’re starving?” 

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at the witch in suspicion, regardless of her attempts to veil the bitterness of her voice. It seemed that he knew her far too well to fall for her tricks, or was too wary that she might wake, watching for every small sign of her lucidity. 

“What causes your heart to bleed so, Sabrina?” he asked, his voice low and unassuming, yet harboring an unpleasant undertone that signaled the insidious rising of the tides of his anger, making her breast flood with a strange mix of fear and resentment. 

Sabrina breathed deeply, focusing on being calm, stamping down the embers of quiet rebellion that kindled quickly in her center, threatening to consume her in flames. 

This dream was trying to tell her something, she knew. It had started out exactly how Lucifer would have wanted, his little girl utterly drunk in and off his presence, succumbing to his every whim. But seeing her friends so mistreated, suffering to the point of longing for death, hardened Sabrina’s heart and solidified what she already knew: She needed to find a way to escape from Lucifer’s thrall for good. 

Sabrina spread her hands about Lucifer’s strong chest in supplication, “Dark Lord, you know you’re my true God,” she said, her voice dripping with flattery, “and your strength is unmatched, but you can’t punish them, please, I feel as if they belong to me.” 

Somehow, Sabrina suspected that the surest means to getting her way was to stroke her father’s rather ample ego. If she played the obedient little bride, he might stop distrusting her and reveal something that might help her escape from him. 

Lucifer’s dark eyes somehow lightened, ever so slightly, like silvery dew rippling across their grassy orbs. He smirked down at her, tucking a stray blonde lock behind her ear almost graciously. 

“I have given you Hell and Earth to rule,” he began, still somewhat stern sounding despite the slight softening of his look, “and the creatures of both kingdoms are slaves to your demands. What’s a few measly mortals to you?” 

Sabrina opened her mouth to reply, but the Devil silenced her with a wave of his hand. 

“My queen is known to speak her mind,” his strong voice carried to all ears, which were bent towards them with curiosity, “but she forgets her place…" 

Sabrina gasped in indignation, her hands recoiling from his chest. _'What is he going to do?'_ she thought in horror, as his cruel green eyes focused on her with considerable intensity. 

"Throw these useless thieves into the pit, jailer," he snarled, to her utter dismay, "eat them if you want to, show them what _real_ hunger looks like.” 

The scarecrow demon began to comply instantly with a vicious, slobbering grin, grabbing the humans roughly by their shoulders, dragging them one by one to their feet. Her friends whimpered and cried out in alarm; they were to be damned to the fiery eternity of Hell with no hope of ever escaping. Moreover, they would likely know the agony of being eaten alive beforehand. All because Sabrina didn't play the role of Satan's silent, salacious bride well enough. 

Sabrina felt the last vestiges of her drunkenness slip from her, replaced with cold, resolute anger. Every since she had joined the Church of Night, there was so many practices she had discovered that she chafed against. Her nature was entwined with an unshakable saviour-complex, that was just who she was, and so many witches were made victim of the Dark Lord’s cruel agenda, she just knew she had to do something to reform the whole system. Many of the traditions she had encountered were irredeemably sexist, and her down-with-the-patriarchy spirit had taken shape, like a bird to flight. Sabrina was not one to sit down and shut up; that just wasn’t her. 

So, instead, the young witch scrambled to her feet, flushed from head to toe, and released a torrent of angry words directed towards her father, “So you give me powers, a title, a throne, but you can’t grant me a simple wish? That makes me think that I’m just here to be prettied up and coddled, to keep inflating your already ridiculously swollen ego. I’m not some doll for you to play with -- one you can put on the shelf whenever you get bored. I have my own ideas about the way things should be done and I will _not_ be silenced!” 

The hush that washed over the room was deafening, only Sabrina’s angry, heaving breaths laboured out, somehow accentuating the uncomfortable quiet even more. 

Lucifer’s look was truly menacing, especially from his position on that imposing throne. His dark eyes narrowed at her, his lips twisted in disdain; his own breath seemed to be strained, perhaps barely able to control the ravages of his contempt, bursting forth from his nostrils like a wild bull. 

She heard her friends shift nervously in their shackles behind her. Everyone else in the throne room was frozen in place, shocked mute, staring at the volatile couple as if a train wreck was barreling towards them. 

“Well, now I know your ultimate weakness,” Lucifer bit out, after considering her heatedly for several moments, “you consider your friends to be family, hm? Well, I’m the _only_ one you should be looking to in love, and you would do well to remember that.”

Sabrina scoffed, tilting her chin up defiantly, “I could _never_ love you.” 

Lucifer’s face darkened as if night descended upon the throne room, in fact the shadows seemed to reach out from every crevice, several torches nearest to him snuffed out as if a wash of cold air overcame them. 

The Dark Lord rose to his feet, clenching his hands into tight fists at his sides; he addressed the demons who attended them, his voice soaked in malice, “I think that a bit of time in the fiery pits, along with her disgusting mortal friends, will do our cantankerous queen some good.” 

Sabrina blanched for a moment, fearfully considering the pain of prolonged combustion with no death to ease her suffering, but quickly remembered herself. This was a dream, for Hell’s sake. Her father couldn’t harm her, could he? He was all bark but no bite. Besides, he was completely missing the point; she wasn't rescuing her friends from him, who she knew to be dream wraiths, but rather herself. And the fact that he just pushed all of her anger aside like that only made the emotion roll over and rise like a beast from the depths. 

"No, dad," she seethed, " _you_ can burn." 

Sabrina rallied her strength, as if summoning an army of magick within her, crying out and moving forth in waves at her command. In her mind, as queen, she was blessed with the strength of a hundred, no, a thousand witches. Just one small summon from the deep wells within her levitated her off the ground, floating her ominously towards the rib-vaulted ceilings. The whites of her eyes consumed her irises, her lips contorted in a sadistic grin, dementedly pleased with her own shocking display of power. Every exposed inch of Sabrina’s skin seemed to glow as brightly as starlight in a cloudless sky, even the innumerable rows of blazing torches were inferior to her silvery radiance. 

“You won’t hurt my friends,” Sabrina’s strong voice seemed wrapped up in a chorus of countless others, enchanting yet frightful in its otherworldly sound, “you won’t own the Earth; you will _not own me_.” 

Lucifer looked up at her, and for a split second, the barest hint of dismay touched his eyes. Then his expression sobered, smoothing just as quickly as distress distorted it, chuckling as if dryly amused by her antics, “Sabrina, what are you going to do to stop me?” 

Sabrina’s hands lifted of their own accord, without even uttering a spell, she felt magick building in her palms like a molten lava beneath the skin. It was painful in its sheer power, but she harnessed it with a wild fury that could overcome all obstacles. 

“Get _out_ of my head, Lucifer,” the ensemble of whispers slipped menacingly out of Sabrina's mouth, “or I _will_ destroy you, and if I have to, Nick along with you.” 

Lucifer’s eyes widened, but shockingly, giggles suddenly erupted from his throat; he eventually bent over in a half-crazed cackle, clutching his stomach as if it pained him. Sabrina watched him, devoid of all of her previous lust and compliancy, manic in her contempt. 

“Marvelous, Sabrina!” the Dark Lord cried, straightening abruptly, happy tears glistening in those forest green orbs, “ _That’s_ my girl.” 

With a shriek of unrestrained wrath, that symphony of berserk voices spilling forth from Sabrina like dying screams on the wind, an enormous beam of white light shot from her hands and struck Lucifer directly in the chest, sending him flying backwards, disappearing without a trace into the inky void which suddenly yawned behind him. 

He was gone. Banished from her thoughts. 

Sabrina felt her magick, so intense it left her limp, slipping out of her body like a sigh. She gravitated downwards, her eyes flickering shut from the strain of expelling Lucifer, but her feet never touched the ground. She kept floating, floating, until the blackness swallowed her as well, and she fell into deep unconsciousness. The last thing she remembered seeing was Lilith smiling at her generously, evidently pleased with her pluckiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a win for Sabrina! However, it probably won't last very long. *hint, hint* 
> 
> So, I'm totally making this up as I go along! Very limited planning. But, I figured I'll continue with this theme: just as Lucifer polluted Nick with his dark essence, similarly his spirit seeps into Sabrina's dreams, except he's an active participant in this case. More will be explained next chapter. 
> 
> I hope you guys liked this update. Please let me know what you think in the comments; your kudos and commentary keep me inspired, some of you even give me direction! Saying what you like, or even what you don't like, really enlightens me to where I should be taking this story. Either way, I'm really enjoying writing this piece and sharing my love for this twisted ship with all of you. 
> 
> Thanks so much to you all, my lovely readers!


	4. Chapter 4

At first, Sabrina woke up feeling almost pleased with herself. Almost. There was the near giddy satisfaction of having banished the Dark Lord from her dream, which swelled her chest like the first breath of clear mountain air. This, in itself, was a testament to how far Sabrina had fallen, if only a _half-night_ free from Lucifer's presence could lift her spirits, as if she had rebuked a particularly cruel bully, or rather, punched him squarely in the face. 

The biggest issue was all that preceded that daring feat. The dream was irredeemably naughty, utterly depraved, and there was no denying her shame. Sabrina had been wrapped up in Lucifer’s lechery, as if enrolled in a hundred blankets, bathed in heat, her brain addled from a feverous haze. She was so consumed by her disgusting role that she didn’t even recognize her closest friends, the epitome of all that was good and pure in her life, until they faced certain damnation. Sabrina had acted like some lowly creature, a thing completely other than herself, a disgusting succubus who’s greatest pride and purpose in the eternity of her life was to be the Dark Lord’s sexual plaything. 

_‘A whore,’_ Sabrina thought, with a horrible sinking feeling, _'that's exactly what I was, no more, no less.’_

Sabrina buried herself completely beneath her heavy blankets, like she used to do as a child, hiding from a monster in the dark that she feared wanted to eat her whole. Now, she seemed to be hiding from the monster that lurked within, one that was already steadily consuming her bit by bit. The young witch felt like she hadn’t slept in a couple weeks, and perhaps she hadn’t, not restfully at least. The Dark Lord had made sure of that. Sabrina had no comfort when she was with her father, nor when she was away from him. Even as she slept there was no respite from the terrible truth which greeted her freshly every morning when she awoke, trailing her like an inky shadow throughout the day: Lucifer was grooming her to be his queen, even now, and she had no idea how to stop it. 

Yes, Satan was chained, and his magick was greatly reduced in the prison of Nick’s flesh. His previous attempt to overthrow the world had indeed been thwarted. But, how long would this last? Lucifer was no god, yet he was the closest thing that Sabrina had ever seen to it -- probably the nearest thing she would ever see to a truly powerful divine figure. He was childish, arrogant, really just a general pain in the ass, but he was by no means stupid nor infirm despite his current condition. Lucifer hadn’t gotten this far, amassing a vast legion of powerful demons under his wings, by sheer luck. For a moment, in her melancholy, Sabrina felt that it was only a matter of time until he somehow found a way to escape from the Academy’s dungeons. Then, Lucifer would snatch her away like a babe from the cradle, or otherwise punish her severely for her impudence. Sabrina might even regret the day she was born. 

As Sabrina’s train of thoughts took a turn for the worst, drenched in dark despair, it seemed to entirely derail, crash and burn, as her mind touched on Nick and what she had said about him in her fury. _‘I will destroy you,’_ Sabrina had hissed to Lucifer, like a vengeful demon, _‘and if I have to, Nick along with you.’_

Sabrina gasped to herself, struck starkly by horror as she remembered her threat. Even if this task were somehow accomplishable, she wouldn’t dare try to harm Nick. She didn’t care if her boyfriend wanted to kill her for betraying him. He could hate her guts, lunge at her on his first opportunity, curse the ground she walked on and the air she breathed, but Sabrina would never, ever lay a finger on him. What was really disturbing was that, at the time, Sabrina truly meant what she had said. Oh _Heaven_ , what was she thinking? The young witch was so wrapped up in her venomous hatred of her father that she had let it poison her love for Nick. Now, Sabrina’s entire worldview and conception of herself seemed to shift into shadowy territory, unsure and frightful, where the things that once seemed clear to her became blurry, sinister shapes. 

_‘What am I gonna do?’_ she thought, shutting her eyes tightly despite the darkness beneath the blankets, _‘Think, Sabrina.’_

“Sabrina?” her aunt Hilda’s voice called through the door, “love, are you alright?” 

“Yes, auntie,” Sabrina called back, shooting up from beneath the covers, “sorry, did I sleep in again?” 

“Yeah, a little, sweetheart,” Hilda responded, her voice muted through the wood, chuckling almost nervously, “are… are you sure everything’s okay?” 

Sabrina’s affirmative reply made as if to spring from her tongue, but she clamped her mouth shut before she could let it fly. Why was she lying to her auntie, again? Maybe this was the solution she was searching for. If she loosened the details a bit, no, a lot, then maybe her aunties could help her find a way to pry Lucifer’s hold off of her mind, hopefully without fearing too much for her sanity. 

“Actually, is aunt Zelda here? I have to talk to both of you guys.” 

“No, darling,” Aunt Hilda replied hesitantly, “she’s in bed, a bit under the weather, I’m afraid.” 

“She’s sick?” Sabrina gasped, scrambling out of bed and flying across the room, flinging the door open wide on its hinges, “Aunt Zelda has never been sick, like ever!” 

Her appearance being as ragged as it was, no wonder Aunt Hilda gasped, her hand flying to her chest. Sabrina looked like a nasty clump at the bottom of the drain; her hair was a rat’s nest, her complexion darkened with anxiety-induced shadows. 

“Yes,” Hilda meeped, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, my love, but our powers are… waning, it seems. But not to worry,” she hastened, “we’ll get it all sorted out! Why don’t you come down for breakfast, my dear?” 

That was all Sabrina needed to hear, now she was certain that she couldn’t burden her aunts with her petty problems. Apparently, there were enough issues going around already. And, coincidentally, if Sabrina’s assumptions were correct, they were all derived from the same source. The young witch would have to be the one to deal with it singlehandedly, she suspected. 

“Okay, auntie, I’ll come down in a minute.” 

Hilda seemed satisfied, giving her a light pat on the cheek and hustling down stairs to set out plates. Sunday breakfasts were always Sabrina’s favourite. The young witch seemed to be running around perpetually, whether it be to take care of business in Hell, juggling school responsibilities, or to hang out with her friends, she never had a moment to spare. And now all these troubles with Lucifer… Oh, well, she would liven herself up with breakfast, get herself looking somewhat presentable, and go deal with the problem head-on. She felt invigorated at the mere thought. 

Breakfast was smooth and slow, soothing. 

It didn't take long for the feeling to fade away into quiet unease once more. 

Sabrina felt her heart steadily inching its way up her throat as she wove her way through the maze of dark hallways leading to where Lucifer was imprisoned. How she hated coming down here! The very thought of seeing her father again overwhelmed her with dread. At first, filling that dank cell was a great victory for Sabrina, as it meant that she had finally brought Nick home. Or, at least, much closer to home than Pandemonium was. 

But, now, coming down here meant that she was steadily marching towards another battle fated to be lost, a breadth of shame valley-wide, where her inhibitions dropped away like fallen soldiers in the popeyed fields. Satan meant to be Sabrina’s complete undoing, and so far, he was succeeding every step of the way. No, the Queen of Hell wouldn’t let herself fall victim to the deposed ruler, not one more time. Yes, she needed something desperately from Lucifer at the moment. But, he didn’t hold the upper hand, no matter how much he tried to convince her of this, Lucifer was ultimately deluded. 

Sabrina would save the coven, and she _would_ get her way, no matter what. She would not be Lucifer’s to own, like a pawn in his hand. She was much stronger than how she had been acting these past couple weeks. And she was sick of playing his twisted little games. 

This thought fanned the valiant fire in her belly as she airily strolled into Lucifer’s cell, her manner bold, her chin upturned, her countenance utterly dignified -- just as Diana, virginal and bright, scoured the dense woods for prey, so Sabrina Spellman sought out her father with a nearly divine grace which lent her ethereal beauty. However, the sight that greeted her upon entrance was enough to wilt her like a flower in a blast of heat. 

Lucifer was completely exposed to the chill air, sprawled on his back in the salt circle which bound him, not a shred of clothing on him. His bare flesh glistened with sweat and trembled with fervour, those supple muscles undulating like the waves at sea with each smooth stroke of his fist over his hard cock. He was limited somewhat by the chain on his wrist, with each motion, it jangled brightly like the vigorous tolling of a bell. Lucifer’s head was thrown back, his neck arched, his lips parted slightly, panting in pleasure. His hair looked ample and shaggy, the chestnut curls at the nape of his neck were damp and sticking to his skin, those numberless strands shifting almost magically as his head lolled back and forth, like mollusks sucking and whirling their way across the sea floor. Lucifer’s hand worked up, up, rubbing circles over that lustrous head, swollen and wine-dark with arousal, dribbling small droughts of his essence and slickening his velvety shaft. 

Sabrina stared at him with brown eyes blown as wide as saucers, her heart plummeting to her feet, her mouth agape. She could do naught but ogle at him stupidly, as Lucifer, no doubt, relished her eyes on him, shamelessly pleasuring himself for her benefit as well as his own. His large hand whitened like bone as he clutched himself harder, faster, her name spilling from his lips like sweet honey, “S-Sabrina…” 

Sabrina couldn’t deny that it was a sinfully enticing sight, certainly made to be as such, to tempt her away from her cold resentment and back into the warm embrace of her unconquerable desire for him. From Sabrina’s position, frozen with her back to the shut door, she could see every inch of his generous length. She could hear Lucifer’s soft groans and sighs as they echoed off the close walls, matching the intermittent skipping of her beating heart. The candle-flames seemed to blaze brighter every time a gratified sound fell from his lips, the very act of his auto-eroticism bathing the room in hellish heat. The blonde-headed witch was struck dumb and mute. She felt pressure building inside her as his own stimulation neared its peak. 

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Lucifer cursed breathlessly, his erection visibly throbbing. His hand made deft work of his aching member, switching pace at times to propel him closer and closer to the verge of ecstasy. His smooth, lengthwise motions turned circular and jarring, eliciting sharp groans from deep in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing, swallowing no doubt unseemly keens which threatened to burst forth.

Sabrina knew her presence alone delivered Lucifer to the edge of completion. He was practically radiating elation, smugly gratified by her inability to turn away from him, exposed and vulnerable and wrapped up in his own world of sensuous delight. 

“Lucifer!” Sabrina choked out, finally able to find her voice, her cheeks flushed as red as summer strawberries. 

That was the wrong thing to do. As soon as her voice filled the air, Lucifer seemed overcome, and he cried out, spilling his seed all over his hand and stomach. His entire body shook like a leaf in the wind, practically glowing in the aftershocks of his orgasm. The satisfied smile which upturned his lips was just as lecherous as the rest of him appeared in that moment. 

“Ah,” Lucifer moaned, opening his cat-slitted, green eyes to take in Sabrina’s quivering form before him, fondling his softening cock with elegant fingers soiled slippery with cum, “I was _just_ thinking about you, Sabrina.” 

Sabrina sputtered momentarily, but gathering her courage about her like a cloak in a fierce wind, she was able to stare him down. 

“I have a favour to ask you,” Sabrina said, nearly nonchalantly, “and I’m serious, no more funny business, Lucifer.” 

It was a ludicrous thing to say considering his hand remained glued to his cock, every inch of Lucifer’s exquisite body bared to her eyes, and his milk-white arousal still coated him thickly. Not to mention that vainglorious grin that spread his face, which excited both Sabrina’s rage and her sexual passion to no end. 

“Me? Funny business?” the Dark Lord quirked a brow, “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Quit it,” Sabrina scowled, and she made as if to continue before he interrupted her, sitting up from his position with a sigh and resting his forearms across his raised knees. He cut a fine figure in the half-light, like a model posing naked for an artist, even his smug expression made complete the already perfectly alluring picture. Sabrina had to avert her eyes lest her blush deepen to an even more startling shade. 

“Haven’t I given you enough favours?” Lucifer chuckled wryly, his wandering, lust-filled gaze clearly picturing those times his skilled fingers wrought Sabrina’s pleasure, “It’s my time now. Clean me up, girl, just as you have done before.” 

“Can you stop?” Sabrina groaned, furrowing her brows, “be crusty, for all I care. I’m not lifting a finger for you now. Just cover yourself up, Lucifer.” 

“Crusty?” he mimicked, a genuinely amused smile touching his lips momentarily, “I don’t think so.”

Sabrina did her best to avoid noticing Lucifer’s stark nakedness, meeting his eyes instead, which glinted mischievously. 

“The coven’s weakening,” Sabrina asserted, “sapped of all our powers, and I know you have something to do with it.” 

“Oh, you mean all those wretches that betrayed their true Lord?” Lucifer asked, suddenly scowling severely at Sabrina, “I have everything to do with that. And you can save your breath, I’m not giving those traitors a single drop of my power, not anymore.” 

Sabrina felt herself stiffen. He was so stubborn and petulant, just like a rotten child. She noticed that Lucifer had somehow discarded his trousers off to the side, and she lunged to grab them from the inner circle, only to throw them at him fiercely, her aim striking true and hitting him squarely in the face. Lucifer’s expression seemed mostly bored and mildly irked as they fell away, draping semi-appropriately across his bent knees. 

Sabrina shot back defensively, “You were going to enslave them all! What did you expect?”

Wordlessly, Lucifer grabbed Sabrina by the thin of her ankles, yanking her forward so she fell painfully on her backside with a startled yelp. It was a mistake to step within his reach, clearly. The Devil dragged her forward so that she sat between his knees, his pants falling to the side once more, much to her chagrin, as their flushed faces met in witheringly bitter closeness. 

They mirrored each other at this moment. Glowering expressions, backs stiffened like boards, both staring heatedly, as if willing to set the other to flames with merely a glance. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, that was for sure. 

“I am their God!” Lucifer said scathingly, “who are they to question me? To _dethrone_ me? I have given them all that they could have ever desired, only to have it thrown back in my face. So, I will give them naught but their just punishment, and they _will_ suffer, make no mistake.” 

“Good luck with that,” Sabrina chuckled without humour, her eyes narrowing at his threat, “look at you, your best hope at getting out of here is giving a teenage girl wet dreams.” 

Lucifer seethed, “I tire of your insolence, Sabrina.” 

“Oh, _sorry_ , is daddy angry?” Sabrina derided him, despite his grip tightening agonizingly on her arms, and their frightening closeness, she would not back down.

“Yes,” Satan bit out, his eyes sparking like flint off of steel, “very angry. Don’t push me further than you already have, daughter, because I will discipline you and relish every minute of it.” 

“Planning to finger me again?” Sabrina mocked him, “Spank me, maybe? Please, spare me.” 

Sabrina knew she was plunging off a cliff into dangerous waters. She could see the jagged rocks as she plummeted towards them -- that kind of peril was reflected in the smoldering of his dark eyes -- but she couldn’t help but enjoy this moment. It was a very rare opportunity, being able to get under the Dark Lord’s skin the way he always seemed to do hers. It was a slippery precipice, ridiculing one such as him, but the view was simply incredible as she leapt towards certain death. Lucifer’s chest heaved dramatically, his mouth down-turned drastically in a menacing frown, his eyes casting her a frightening glare, which she caught and threw right back at him twice fold. 

“Please,” Lucifer scoffed, and then exhaled deeply, as if striving to mask his contempt, his grip slackening and his voice turning unnervingly calm despite the boiling fury in his eyes, “you should be grateful for the attention I give you. I have promised to give you the world. Without me, you would face the same fate as your coven: you would become nothing, starved for power and left behind in history’s notorious dustbin.” 

Sabrina shrugged herself out of his grip, still trapped between his knees, starting to feel unnervingly affected by that startling warmth which emanated off of his skin like he was a furnace. 

“How do you ever expect me to love you if you won’t save my coven?” 

Lucifer rolled his eyes, to Sabrina’s immense irritation, and said, “All I want is for you to give yourself to me. Love will come, if you so choose.” 

“So suddenly you’re indifferent to my affection?” Sabrina said, turning away with pursed lips, “because that’s not how it seemed last night, or even when I walked in, just now. You could earn brownie points if you did this for me, maybe.” 

Sabrina mentally chastised herself for getting so sidetracked. Not to mention, put into such an undesirable position, once more in the wrong part of the protective circle and trapped in Lucifer's tight closeness. She was here to use her influence over the Dark Lord to gain the advantage and restore her coven, no matter how tenuous that bond might be, and that was all. Lucifer’s next words challenged that notion, threatening to snap the cord between his teeth. 

Lucifer shut his eyes tightly, asking himself, “Why am I bound to such an insufferable child? Sometimes, I think that I should do away with you along with them.” 

He opened his eyes, like moss-green pools in mid-July, and heaved a heavily affected sigh, “Oh, well. If not me, then certainly the old Gods will clean up this mess you’ve made, Sabrina. And I doubt they will be as merciful as I, they should make quick work of you all.” 

Sabrina paled, ever so slightly, considering the implications of his words. She was not one to quail in the face of a new threat. There seemed to be a continuous flow of enemies at her door since the day she turned sixteen. Yet, she somehow sensed that the Dark Lord wasn’t bluffing this time. Whatever was coming meant to do her coven serious harm and they had the perfect opportunity, as they were so weakened, and likely the means to do so as well, being gods. If Satan was willing to take a back seat to their destruction -- those who had so wronged him and wounded his ego -- then their fate must be almost sealed. 

“What would I have to do to convince you to help us?” Sabrina caved, her brown eyes blown wide in her plea, attempting to pull at his heartstrings. 

Lucifer smiled at this, almost coyly, “Oh, Sabrina. Don’t sell yourself too quickly, the game isn’t fun that way.” 

“Sell myself?” Sabrina gasped, her indignation prickling her like thorns, “I didn’t mean like that! And what do you mean the game wouldn’t be fun? You’ve been playing me all along, clearly enjoying yourself, and I haven’t had any choice at all.” 

Lucifer rolled his eyes, again, “Don’t pretend you're a victim in this, Sabrina. It’s quite unattractive and unlike you. To say that you haven’t been liking our time together is simply laughable.” 

Sabrina huffed angrily. She promised herself she would keep calm and do everything necessary to ensure her coven regained their strength, but Lucifer was just so utterly _infuriating_ , she couldn’t help herself, she had to retaliate once more. 

“You said I would come back to you, but you’re not playing fair,” Sabrina accused, so easily derailed from her original mission, “if you keep tampering with my mind, how am I supposed to come to you of my own free will? How will I know what’s real?” 

She hated saying this, but she just had to make Lucifer leave her alone, whatever the costs. Sabrina knew she would never let him get his way, not entirely. But, she had to play his game if she were to win. It was the only way. 

Lucifer grinned impishly, “My dear, you think I paint those ideas in your head like a work of art? No, I just bring to wakefulness what is already sleeping inside of you. Your mind creates the scene, spurs it on and on, I’m just there to guide you through it and hold your hand… or, rather, other parts of you which desperately need my touch.” 

At this, Lucifer's hand skated up Sabrina’s arm to palm the nape of her neck, nestled beneath the silvery waves of her hair, as if he wanted to bring her in closer to him. They were already uncomfortably close, considering Lucifer's stark nakedness. Sabrina resisted the urge to shove him away. 

“There’s no way I would come up with such sick and twisted dreams,” Sabrina shook her head, her white-blonde curls frothing like a milkshake, “I can’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth.” 

“Believe me,” Lucifer chuckled, “while last night’s little adventure was thoroughly enjoyable, I must say what I value most about you is your fiery spirit. And you were quite… submissive, at least at first. Perhaps, you’re afraid that’s what I desire from you.” 

“Isn’t it?” Sabrina asked icily, remembering how only a moment ago Lucifer had exploded at her for being disrespectful, effortlessly crossing the threshold of violence with his strong, grabbing hands. She hated being caged between his legs like a little bird, and she wanted nothing more than to be free. 

“No,” the Dark Lord responded easily, “not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. I could have anyone I want, but you resist me constantly. That’s what makes this all so amusing. You were made for me, Sabrina.” 

Merely uttering those last words seemed to cause a drastic shift in the Dark Lord’s countenance. His smile softened, ever so slightly, his jaw slackening. He appeared to be less of a snarling predator, becoming an almost approachable pet. Lucifer's usually meticulously neat hair seemed bedraggled, it’s long, silken strands framing his handsome face in loose, chestnut ringlets, like a lover waking up in the calm of the morning, disheveled, warm, and reaching. 

“Even if I were doomed to fail that night you sounded the Horn of Gabriel, I would do it all over again. I feel myself getting closer to you, Sabrina. And I will have you yet,” Lucifer promised her in a low voice, his usually dark green eyes mimicking the pale of dawn over the night sky, brightening in his passion, “keep me chained, for now, but come sit on daddy’s lap.” 

“I will do no such thing,” Sabrina retorted, “I hate it when you talk like that.” 

_‘And when you_ look _like that,’_ she thought, _‘your greatest evil is your sheer desirability.’_

“Then why do you keep coming back?” Lucifer said edgily, “I know you’re a tease, Sabrina, but you lie. I can feel your attraction to me pouring off you in waves.” 

“Because I’m confused!” Sabrina erupted, unwelcome tears threatening to spill suddenly and burning her eyes; those tawny orbs glistened brightly, like fallen leaves wet with rain, “I need your help, but you won’t give me it.” 

“Hm,” Lucifer hummed, his fettered hand raising to brush her white-satin cheek almost absentmindedly, the chain clinking with his movement, “...as above, so below.” 

“What?” Sabrina sniffled lamely, feeling soothed by that warm hand cupping her cheek, despite herself. 

“Despite whatever… chaos you may be feeling, a witch understands the power of balance,” Lucifer said vaguely, “it won’t be long until your mind surrenders to my will, just as your body bends to my every touch.” 

One hand cupping the nape of her neck, the other sneakily reached between her thighs to palm her mound, his quick movement betrayed only by the slight shifting of the chain and the sudden press of his touch, separated only by the thin of her worn jeans. Even that simple touch sent a thrill shooting through Sabrina, and she unwittingly pushed into the slight pressure. 

“If I want you to,” Lucifer murmured, “you rapidly respond to me. A virgin gets wet so easily,” he sighed almost dreamily, a pleasant smile etched on his handsome face as he looked deeply into her eyes, rescinding his hand. 

Sabrina sighed, turning her gaze away again. His face sickened her, sometimes. 

“You’re suffering because you want to be free,” Lucifer said seriously, “but you don’t realize what I offer you is true freedom.” 

“You’re wrong,” Sabrina murmured, her gaze downcast, “I know you’re somehow influencing me with your magick.” 

“Sabrina,” Lucifer started so strongly, Sabrina couldn’t help but snap her neck up to meet his hard eyes once more, “I will not explain myself again. If I wanted to drag you into my own imagination and alter your thoughts, then I would have done it much differently. You would need to be physically close to me, looking into my eyes. You would know if I did it. Such is my state right now, I cannot possibly do more.” 

“You won’t do it now, will you?” Sabrina asked, somewhat wide-eyed. She remembered that day when she had gone to rescue Nick from Pandemonium, and Lucifer's eyes had shone through Nick's like blood moons. Sabrina had felt her spirit fly out of her bones and merge with his, entering some vast, dark realm -- Lucifer and Nick’s shared interiority. 

“No,” Lucifer pacified her gently, “As I said, I like to see you slowly come undone. Little by little, I’m gaining traction.” 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Sabrina asked suspiciously. 

“Well,” Lucifer said, long and drawn-out, as a wicked grin spread across his face, “there would be none of those fanciful, teasing words, nor kisses. And there would be no opportunity for you to refuse me.” 

While Sabrina had been wrapped up in the heat of his gaze, she had scarcely noticed that his hands had traveled to her hips, until he gripped them tightly and dragged her flush to his middle, where she felt his erection, still sullied with his cum, begin to harden once more as the mere beginnings of his fantasy took hold of his mind. It seemed that Lucifer had run this scenario over and over in his head. 

“I would have you chained, but not like I am. You would be hanging from the ceiling. Every bit of your silky skin exposed to the cool air, your ankles tied up in rope, your eyes blindfolded,” he said slowly, his smirk only growing insidiously as he spoke, “there would be great discomfort, I’m certain, but no fear. My girl is so, so brave.”

Sabrina felt her breath catch in her throat, gradually getting more and more immersed in the heat of Lucifer's naked body pressed against hers, the electrifying look in his eyes, and his bewitchingly gruff tone of voice. She was swept away by the scene Lucifer created in her head, almost immediately. 

“I would come up from behind you,” he told her, his voice husky, “and mark your neck, licking and sucking my way to your dainty, little shoulders, until that feeling was all you could focus on, pain mixed with pleasure.” 

“Oh,” Sabrina breathed. 

“I would watch you for a while, such pretty expanses of skin littered with my marks," he intoned, "awash in the tight of your breathing, so when my hands finally found your body once more, I’m already in desperate need to be inside you.” 

Lucifer was drifting ever closer, so his voice was barely above a hush, his hands massaging Sabrina's waist, skirting higher, higher, to brush over her breasts, going back down again, teasing. 

“And one of my favourite things, Sabrina, is that you’re so desperate for me, all I need do is hold you close, like this, so that when my fingers breach your entrance you’re already so slick and wanting, waiting for me.” 

Sabrina watched as Lucifer bit his bottom lip, perhaps an attempt to curb his obvious lust. His erection throbbed insistently, trapped between their bodies, demanding attention. He similarly observed every small change of Sabrina's expression, appreciating her slight gasps and blushing skin with an almost reverent air about him. 

“But I wouldn’t give you that. You’ve gorged yourself on such pleasures, haven’t you, little one?” Lucifer asked her silkily, “No, I would position my cock at your entrance and push myself in slowly, slowly, so you feel every inch.” 

Sabrina couldn’t help herself, she whined wantonly; his words were so vivid she could almost feel him sliding inside her as he spoke. Lucifer grinned lasciviously, relishing her unwitting sound and the lust-filled look that clouded her tawny eyes. 

“Yes, and only when I have completely filled you, would I start thrusting, shallow at first. I can only imagine how deliciously tight you are. But, I know you, daughter, you would soon be begging me for more. And I would immediately comply, having fiercely restrained myself thus far,” Lucifer chuckled deeply, shaking his head, making her wonder with some anticipation what he would be like completely unrestrained. 

Their faces were inches apart, both fair and glimmering golden in the candlelight. Lucifer sucked in a breath, almost groaning as he exhaled, “I would fuck you absolutely senseless, Sabrina.” 

Sabrina’s eyes widened, leaning in imperceptibly, wanting his lips on hers to ignite that growing flame inside her into a bonfire. For a crazed moment, she needed Lucifer to make that dark fantasy of his come to life; it would be so much better than mere words, she was sure. 

“Finally, I could be satisfied... I haven’t been satisfied since I first laid eyes on you,” Lucifer almost bemoaned, “to hear your screams would be music to my ears. I would have you cum on my cock over, and over, and over, until you can’t take anymore. Only then would I fill you with my seed, so deep inside you, Sabrina...” 

Lucifer trailed off, the slightest trace of humour suddenly alighting his eyes as he took in Sabrina’s trembling lips, flushed face, and wide eyes. The young witch was completely lost for words. 

Sabrina imagined herself suspended from the ceiling by harsh, iron chains, her feet bound by rope, those unforgiving materials chafing against her soft skin, causing her to whimper. She was blinded and completely stripped, trembling and exposed to chilly drafts of air, bringing goosebumps to surface and hardening her nipples. Her figure was limp and abused, but she was completely and utterly satisfied. Lucifer’s seed spilled from between her legs, as she quivered in the near paralyzing aftershocks of her countless orgasms, glowing with both pleasure and pain. In her imagination, Lucifer untied her and scooped her up his strong arms, kissing her forehead tenderly and telling her how well she had done, laying her down in a soft bed. 

“Now, that doesn’t sound so bad, does it?” Lucifer said jokingly. 

The unrelenting pressure in Sabrina’s sex made her squirm uncomfortably, which in turn stimulated Lucifer’s arousal that pressed nakedly on her clothed legs, her knees drawn protectively to her chest. 

“Careful, now,” Lucifer growled, “you know not what you do.” 

Sabrina whimpered, “You’re despicable.” 

“Yes,” the Devil laughed, “what of it? You love it.” 

“Promise me you’ll help us,” the blonde-headed witch pleaded with him. 

“I’ll give you anything and everything,” Lucifer breathed, close to her ear, “but not that.” 

Sabrina stared up into his eyes, dumbfounded, annoyed -- but these were minimal in comparison to the sheer desire which overtook her. She had not completely forgotten herself. She was not ready to succumb to him, like he wanted her to, not yet. So, Sabrina craned her neck and pressed her lips so softly against Lucifer’s own that the touch was barely perceptible. An experimentation. A willing, sober taste of the other. 

Sabrina pulled back, and without hesitation, got to her feet and stepped out of the circle. She couldn’t bring herself to voice what she was feeling. Who had won here, and who had lost? She was so unsure. Lucifer’s expression was unreadable as he watched her begin to part. If he wanted her to stay, he didn’t compel her to. But, before Sabrina turned away from him completely, Lucifer stopped her by calling out her name, softly springing from his tongue. 

“That was _so, very_ chaste, Sabrina,” he breathed out a laugh. 

“Well, that’s all you're getting from me today.” 

“Today,” he replied appreciatively, “that will do just fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure sin. Love it. 
> 
> An exploration in dialogue, mostly. This was a huge doozy for me to write, you guys.
> 
> The lovely **Poltergeistrose** has created a discord group for everyone who is interested in the dark content of this fandom. Check it out! (https://discord.gg/QbPaUnT) **edit:** The link is fixed so it won't expire :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you all think. It means a lot to hear your reactions, opinions, and perspectives; it's actually a great help when writing this story.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so notice the tag changes. 'Mildly dubious consent' has become 'Rape/Non-con Elements' with the addition of 'Abuse'. 
> 
> Also, 'I'm sorry' and I mean it! 
> 
> This is a pretty long chapter. So, take a break mid-way. Get some water, maybe a snack. I hope this makes up for my short little hiatus. Also self-care rules.

The day passed away, the night came along, and the Spellman house grew heavy with quiet and dark. All dressed in white, Sabrina climbed into bed and resigned herself to sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking about how Lucifer looked when he had taken himself in grip and wrung out his pleasure for her eyes to behold. It left her feeling warm and tingling with both desire and disquiet, her constant companions lately. As the young witch laid herself down, her thoughts were only of her father, both good and bad, exhilarating and devious. 

After a while, gentle sleep enfolded Sabrina once more in its welcome embrace. 

It was as if she were Alice, only ten inches tall, cradled delicately by enormous hands, only for those hands to fall away slowly, and then all at once, plummeting Sabrina’s infinitesimal form through infinite space. 

Her skimpy, white nightgown exploded in volume as she dropped like a stone in a well, airy fabric billowing upwards towards her chin despite her best efforts to keep the dress pinned down. Layers upon layers of white lace started budding like flower petals upon Sabrina’s nightdress: a bustle skirt, a long hemline, and modest sleeves swathed her plummeting form as if by magick. For some reason, her subconscious deemed it right to dress her in womanly Victorian garb as she hurtled towards some unknown dark. 

Sabrina landed as gently as a leaf kisses the ground, laying on her side on something that felt immensely soft, like a feathered mattress. 

She unfurled as lightly as a ball of yarn into yet another dream where Lucifer would surely greet her. But this one was different, so wildly strange. Gone was that feeling of impending doom that usually pervaded Sabrina’s senses when the Dark Lord called upon her. There was not a trace of those strangling feelings, that breathless desire, which overtook her in his presence.

Even so, Sabrina felt Lucifer’s strong arms materialize from the dark and wrap about her ribs. His front melded to her back, one leg uplifting her long, full skirt and nestling snugly between her thighs. Lucifer’s much taller form seemingly curled around Sabrina, perfectly intertwining them like woven fabric. The position was almost comforting, reminding her of those times she had lain just so with Harvey and Nick. This was the object of her unforgivable desire, her father, the Devil, holding her like she was utterly precious to him. 

“So, we meet again,” Lucifer murmured almost amusedly, hugging Sabrina tightly in his arms. 

Where were Sabrina’s misgivings? Her rash rebellion? It was all dashed to the wind, gone without a trace. Sabrina only felt a wave of warmth wash over her, wanting to wiggle in closer, but not even daring to breathe. The witch feigned sleep, feeling spoiled sick of Lucifer’s angelic beauty, while at other times her wanton eyes discreetly peeked through her heavy lids, to steal a glimpse of that amorous fancy he so readily offered her.

Satan sighed something unintelligible, his voice muffled where he nuzzled his face in Sabrina’s loose, white-blonde waves. He was perhaps enjoying the feel of her small body against his own, unhindered by chains, unmolested by lust’s eager grippings. No, Sabrina was probably just looking too much into the Dark Lord’s seemingly affectionate gestures. 

“This hair,” Lucifer breathed out, curling a stray, silvery lock on Sabrina’s head with his long finger, “it’s like starlight.” 

Sabrina felt her heart pick up the pace at those warm words. _‘What game is he playing?’_ she wondered, partly intrigued, partly irritated in her suspicion. 

Bit by bit, one sense building on top of the other, Sabrina became gradually aware of her surroundings, glancing gingerly through her thick lashes. They were carelessly splayed, seemingly in secret shadow from the moonlight’s midday lustre, on a soft bed of lilies. Fat, happy fireflies danced in lazy circles above them, intermittently lighting up the moon-drenched night with golden sparks. They were in a garden overgrown with wildflowers, snaking vines, and soft moss, thick with the fragrance of Mother Earth’s fresh delights. Dense hedges and copses of trees sprung sporadically from the ground and created inky patches of shadow on the long grass below which rippled in the breeze. Sabrina had little to no will to fight Lucifer off, immersed in the quiet beauty of the night, and some ever-growing part of her secretly relished her father’s tender attention. 

Lucifer was wearing midnight blue, tight-fitting trousers and nothing else. He was as glorious as ever in his smooth bareness, so much so he took her breath away. It was as if the witch had wandered into another life, a separate time and place. Sabrina was the beautiful virgin, decked in white, as ripe and sweet as any fruit and offering herself for the picking. And Lucifer was her dark and wild gentleman lover, calling upon her in the rush of the night. 

It was so strange and sweet. It could almost make Sabrina feel sick to her stomach, as if she had gorged herself on sugary goods and felt she would soon regret it. 

But if Sabrina kept her eyes closed, she reasoned, she could do nothing to heed nor hinder Lucifer’s wishes. Her body was consumed with uncertainty, poised between sleep and wakefulness, desire and distress; her heart was awash in the warring void. 

Around her, Lucifer dissolutely began to play his wanton follies, light in his merriment. He loosely disarrayed Sabrina’s upperparts, expertly handling her strange, modest garb, and showing her half-naked to the moon and stars. He strove, with maximal delight, to gratify her. Lucifer’s fair looks, glancing like evening lights, seemed fresh and young as he bent over his daughter. His sweet words softly poured like sugared liquor through his lips, as he bathed Sabrina in warm kisses: Her cheek, her neck, her bare chest, all silently submitted to his affection. 

“You’re exquisite,” Lucifer boasted of her beauty, immensely pleased that he had yielded to view Sabrina’s dainty limbs above her tender hips, thrilling her here and there with the press of his lips and the barest flicks of his forked-tongue, “I couldn’t have created a more perfect specimen.” 

Lucifer seemed happy if only to occupy himself for a moment, in spite of Sabrina’s falsely sleeping state, picking those sweet-smelling sprouts from the Earth. Then, to humour himself, he adorned her with those little pretties, smiling slightly at the sight. He decked Sabrina with garlands of vines, fresh flowers about her neck, and rings of woven daisies on her fingers, easily manipulating her small, limp form to please his eyes. 

Sabrina knew that she should give into wakefulness and a surge of indignation. Laying death-like on her back, as Ophelia floated ghostly down the river, was simply shameful and utterly unlike her. She should rise from her position like a vengeful ghost, push him away with all her might, and curse Lucifer for making such a silly game of her half-naked form. 

Instead, the girl found that Lucifer’s light behaviour, and loose dalliance, gave her wondrous contentment. In spite of her mental faculties screaming at her to frustrate his frivolous pleasures, Sabrina gave in to baser feelings, which urged her desperately to let him carry on as he deemed fit. The witch chose not to recall her vow to revenge Lucifer’s previous mistreatments, those cruel fights. She yielded to his loving embrace as if it were second nature, intrinsic to her wanton flesh. It was so easy to quench her flamed mind with one sweet drop of Lucifer’s sensual delight. Sabrina groaned out the lingering vestiges of her resistance, like that last unwilling breath of life. She fully opened her brown eyes to meet those green-gray ones that floated mysteriously above her naked, flower-laden chest; those orbs of his glittered as brightly as a deep lake perfectly reflected silver moonlight and the star-decked sky. 

“What’s with the compliments and the flowers, Lucifer?” Sabrina wondered, her voice sounding disturbingly melodious, despite her aim for derision. 

“Well, you’ve dragged us both into this dream,” Lucifer smirked, “I thought I might as well make the most of the romantic setting you’ve created and give my queen some proper jewellery.” His feather-light touch traced the trail of her flowery necklace almost adoringly. “Not to mention, daddy loves to flatter his little girl, that is, when she’s being good.” 

_‘What? Is he making fun of me?’_ Sabrina puzzled internally. These childish, affectionate fancies filled Sabrina’s heart with a strange joy, but also shrouded it with an all-too-familiar confusion, like a misty veil over a lush green meadow. Why was Lucifer acting so lovingly towards her? It made her want to appease his whims, oddly, to perpetually allure that affectionate side of him to the forefront of this strange encounter. It was much better than his wrath, anyway. 

“Careful, Lucifer,” Sabrina warned him, half-jokingly, lifting her arms to rest above her head to entice his gaze to her perky breasts; his overt sexuality was something she was becoming more and more comfortable with, “you’re showing your angel side. God might just take you back.” 

Lucifer scoffed. If he was offended, he didn’t show it. 

“My Father would never take me back,” Lucifer remarked softly, even as he admired Sabrina’s slender, supple upperparts with lust clouding his gaze, “He’s not so forgiving as those mortals dream Him up to be. Heaven has forever shut its ivory gates to me, and it’s just as well.” 

Lucifer continued to absentmindedly play with the wildflowers he had draped about Sabrina’s breasts, that long, fragrant necklace, his fingers lingering to brush against her hardening nipples. Her breasts were young and firm, alabaster in the moonlight, like two dollops of cream. His eyes dwelled appreciatively over her exposed flesh: The elegant column of her neck, those jutting collarbones, dainty breasts, and a smooth stomach. His fingers followed his lusty gaze, as soft as the warm breeze danced upon her skin. 

“There must be _some_ people He forgives,” Sabrina pointed out with the barest hint of a smile, “otherwise Heaven would be completely empty.” 

Lucifer grinned lazily, his eyes sparkling somewhat as he enjoyed her humour. 

“Some,” he acquiesced with a sigh. 

His fingers returned to brush across Sabrina’s taut nipples, seemingly mulling over something. Sabrina kept herself from groaning at the pleasant, tingling feeling which overtook her, excited by his small, gentle touches. 

“The saints and martyrs, so few they are, are placed on high pedestals,” Lucifer continued, assuming a cutting edge to his tone, even as he massaged Sabrina’s young breasts with all the care in the world, “as if they could ever escape the stain of the human condition. Even the most blessed are not worth more than the dredges of that filthy race, and those sinners belong to me and my eternal kingdom. One day, they will _all_ belong to me and see that they deserve only endless suffering and servitude.” 

Even these wicked words, and the villainous glint in Lucifer’s eyes, could not dispel the joys of the garden, so utterly enchanting it left Sabrina speechless. The happy fruitfulness, the pouring moonlight, his tender touch -- Sabrina couldn’t help but marvel at it all. The fields laughed in the ticklish breeze, the flowers freshly sprung, the trees budded their early blossoms, and the insects sang and chirped and told the garden’s nighttime pleasures in their carolling. 

Lucifer sighed, apparently overcome in a dreamlike haze just as she, and gathered more wildflowers to slip behind Sabrina’s ears and snugly fitted them beneath the press of her white headband. She was crowned with varying hues of delicate petals, so different from that weighty monstrosity he had encumbered on her head the night of her coronation at the Academy, that deplorable mass of twisted bone. She was half-dressed in frothy white fabric and lace, radiant in the moonlight. It was the unwrapping of a virgin, so sublime, and utterly unlike that golden gown she wore that fateful night with a plunging neckline that falsely spoke of a woman fully matured and experienced in her sexuality. 

“But you, my dear,” Satan murmured darkly, his hands moving upwards to cup her girlishly plump cheeks, “one such as you, with celestial blood running through your veins, a heart so pitifully pure, and such enchanting beauty... Well, if my Father ever tried to snatch you away from me there would be an army at His doorstep.” 

“That would never happen,” Sabrina sighed, glancing away with a faint blush, as he loomed over her with wicked intent alighting his emerald eyes, “and you’re so screwed up, Lucifer. There’s a lot more beauty in the human world than you think.” 

Lucifer grinned lasciviously, sitting up slightly and relinquishing his hold on her cheeks, like two daisies in bloom. He reached beneath Sabrina’s skirt to run his hands along her smooth calves, up to her thighs which trembled with anticipation, bunching the bone-white skirt around her lithe hips. 

“The only beautiful thing humanity could ever offer is held right here in my grip,” Lucifer rejoined, emphasizing his point by squeezing her thighs possessively in his large hands, “and you, too, I shall own. You’ll be my greatest treasure, girl.” 

Lucifer was sweeter than any bird on a bough, lyrical in his compliments, though tinged with a sourness that was barely perceptible except in the content of his words. His physicality and flattery were uncharacteristically kind and soft. He was the epitome of angelic beauty wreathed in infernal delights, and Sabrina might’ve been suspicious of him if he weren’t so wondrously appealing at that moment; he could blind her so easily to the truth of his cruel intentions. 

“Are you going to make love to me?” Sabrina asked, her voice dripping like honeydew, her brown eyes flecked with a golden lustre, bright with lust. The beauty of the nighttime garden and his loving touches had completely enchanted her.

“I don’t _make love_ ,” Lucifer chuckled wryly. 

“Well,” Sabrina retorted almost waspishly, “are you going to fuck me, then?” 

Lucifer’s wide grin suddenly spread his face like the smiling, slobbering maw of a predator on the chase. For a moment, Sabrina felt tinged with regret at her words. _‘But, this is only a dream,’_ she reminded herself, _‘whatever Satan does to me here can’t apply to the real world, can it?’_

She could give in to her terrible passions, just this once. She could cheat the game. No one would be the wiser, and Satan ultimately wouldn’t win her over, nor succeed in whatever sick plans he was currently concocting. Sabrina would make sure of that. The blonde-headed witch could have her cake and eat it too, so to speak. 

“You’d readily give yourself to me?” Lucifer asked in a low, sultry tone, bending over her so that his body completely laid over Sabrina’s own, almost oppressive in his largeness and warmth. Sabrina was wafted with the Dark Lord’s unique scent, like that of tart berries, cypress woods, and leather being tanned over a flame; the fragrance was so thick and rich, she could almost taste it. 

Sabrina swallowed, resisting the urge to inhale his delectable scent. Instead, she looked deeply into his eyes, which were unwavering despite the shifting beams of moonlight that alighted his face one moment and shadowed it the next. 

“You won’t have me completely, Satan,” the young witch replied, nearly sneeringly, as if it that fact was so obvious it was disdainful that he couldn’t see it, “it’s just a dream.” 

“Pleasure is all in the mind, my dear,” Lucifer intoned gravely, his brows furrowing somewhat from some unknowable displeasure, “and virginity is a product of society’s misguided will to keep the young and hungry disenfranchised, chaste and pure; it’s an utter fabrication.” 

Sabrina resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She could accurately guess from whom she had inherited her anarchist spirit. Her father was a creature that existed beyond any semblance of rules or morality. 

“Besides,” the Dark Lord continued, somewhat bitterly, one hand lifting from beneath Sabrina’s wadded skirt to brush her cheek -- her hair, her thighs, and her chubby cheeks seemed to be places he was irresistibly drawn to, for some reason, “you don’t really want me to take your virginity, now, do you? If you did, you wouldn’t have pushed me away all those times in the witch's cell, or come up with dream sequences set to stop me before we got too far.” 

Sabrina couldn’t discern the truth of those words. Not when parts of her were nakedly displayed to Lucifer’s view, not with the memory of his fantasy still fresh in her mind from the day which preceded this lovely dream, and _certainly_ not with the weight of his half-bared body pressed against her own with such pleasant heat. 

“Why do you keep refusing me?” Sabrina responded exasperatedly, her countenance inflamed with sudden passion, “I thought you _wanted_ me to give in to you?” 

Lucifer raised his brows, a faint smile playing on his lips once more. His grip on Sabrina’s thigh tightened manifold, the hand on her cheek reaching to possessively cup the nape of her neck. He moved away from her a bit, only to start oscillating his hips between her open legs, so his growing erection ground against Sabrina’s nether region deliciously. Immediately, her virgin’s body reacted of its own accord, wetness blossoming in her snow-white panties as she whimpered out her pleasure. 

“If you can’t tell,” Lucifer groaned, his forest green eyes narrowing conspicuously, “it’s taking _everything_ in my power to refuse you.” 

“Then why?” Sabrina moaned, throwing her flowered head back to rest against the soft, lily-padded pillow, looking like a forest nymph willfully succumbing to the desires of some lewd god, utterly trapped by Lucifer’s weight and the force of his grip. 

“Because,” Lucifer bit out, halting the motions of his hips to glare down at Sabrina accusingly, “if I took you now, you would soon grow to resent me. And I want you to set me free, Sabrina.” 

Sabrina’s eyes widened as she stared at her father, looming over her like a man half-possessed, shadowed at parts and brightened in others by lust’s electrified thunder cloud. 

“But you make it _so_ hard, Sabrina,” the Dark Lord chastised her irritably, “you’re making me insane.” 

“Good,” Sabrina rejoined fiercely, “because you’ve made me crazy since the day you made me sign your stupid book!” 

Lucifer glowered down at her with the lingering heat of his lust and rising contempt. Sabrina met the challenge of his flaming gaze head-on with enough frustrated tears in her eyes to douse a wildfire. Whatever he found in her gaze seemed to satisfy him, and Sabrina watched Satan as his hackles settled like a dog having won a vicious fight, and his smile slowly returned. His moods changed his expression as quickly as the clouds dashed over the sun on a windy day, a game of hide and reveal, which only left Sabrina feeling hopelessly lost. 

“Normally, my promiscuity knows no bounds,” Lucifer remarked, half-jokingly, “and neither does yours, it seems. So, in more ways than one, we are related…” 

Perhaps despite himself, he hurried to unlace his trousers, taking out his thickened cock and pushing aside Sabrina’s frilly panties to position his member at the slickened slit of her entrance. She felt the head of his cock throbbing insistently as he teased her cleft, rubbing smooth circles, pushing in ever so slightly only to skirt away and poke against her aching clitoris. Sabrina felt tremors of want, and slight apprehension at the act which was likely to come, overtake her body like the beginnings of an avalanche. 

All Sabrina wanted in the world, at that moment, was to have Lucifer sheath inside her fully and pound out their shared desire, eviscerate them both of that so far unfairly unsated need. 

Suddenly, Satan slipped inside her half an inch more than he had before, pulling back just as quickly as he had come. Sabrina’s frustrated groans disturbed the lively sounds of the summer night, and Lucifer’s own grunts slipped out unwittingly, his eyes trained over her blushing face made radiant by the moonlight. Once again, the Dark Lord leaned in close to drape himself over Sabrina, one hand still working the head of his cock against her slit, the other travelling downwards to first squeeze her breast, then back up again to tangle in her silvery hair. 

“I would ride with you upon the wind,” Lucifer crooned lowly, kissing Sabrina’s neck haphazardly, his voice gravelly and his caresses sloppy with sheer want, “dance with you atop the mountaintops like flames. Set me free, Sabrina, please.” 

_‘Please?’_ Sabrina marvelled to herself. Who was this wanton creature that paraded itself about in Lucifer’s bones, using his eloquent voice to weave beautiful magick, his touch to evoke feelings of desperate love? 

Love. 

Bless herself to Heaven, Sabrina could almost love him. 

No, no. That was lust whispering deranged nothings in her ear, for Heaven’s sake. Lucifer was deliberately teasing Sabrina to the edge of madness, for want of him, so that he could trick her into letting him go. Sabrina used all her strength of will to pull herself away from Lucifer’s overwhelming presence, sitting up abruptly. She gathered her mangled top about her and refitted herself into her long sleeves, fiercely pushing her snow-white dress back past her knees. She did all this, despite her body screaming at her to let him have his way with her right then and there. 

“Still saving yourself for someone dearer?” Lucifer bit out sardonically, his beautiful face overcast with indignation, his hand forcefully shoving his erection back into his trousers. 

“No,” Sabrina responded just as heatedly, then blushed at the implications of her words, “I won’t let you go, Lucifer. You don’t deserve to be free. But, if you feel that I’ll resent you if you fuck me, I’ll make it a game.” 

Sabrina had spoken before she had fully fleshed out what she had meant to stay. Pausing for a moment, the young witch pondered her next words, wondering briefly to herself exactly when she had abandoned all inhibitions. _‘Screw it,’_ she thought, _‘I can’t deny it anymore, I want him so badly. But, I can have him in my way, not his.’_

Not to mention, if she got on the Dark Lord’s good side, she would have a better chance of persuading him to restore her crippled coven to their former glory. No, she would make him promise to make them even better than they once were, with more power and less corruption rotting them away from within. 

The moonlight cast its silvery hues across Sabrina’s pearly face and white-blonde hair, making her utterly luminous in her beauty, breathtaking to behold, all decked with Nature’s precious gifts. As he watched her, Lucifer looked still threatening, but tinged with a tender sort of curiosity, like a violent brat who had chanced upon a pretty, wounded bird and wanted to hold it close without crushing it in his grip this time. No matter how affectionate Lucifer acted towards Sabrina, there was always that threatening miasma of his. At one moment, it bubbled discreetly beneath the surface, and the next, the promise of violence poured off of him in choking waves. The will and the power to hurt Sabrina was always present within Lucifer, only at times it was subdued and hidden behind a veil of pretty words and wanton touches. 

It didn’t matter though, Lucifer had successfully seduced her, she knew. Sabrina just had to figure out how to control him and use the Devil’s powers to her advantage. 

“If you can catch me, you can have me,” Sabrina whispered after an extended moment, as the idea struck her like a stroke of genius, the light of gaiety reaching her brown eyes, “and then I won’t hold it against you because you would have won me fair and square.” 

Lucifer seemed at first taken aback by the audacity of her proposition. But, as he considered it, soon his face twisted in a wickedly amused grin. His eyes trailed hungrily over Sabrina's body, still somewhat in a state of delicious disarray, and then fixed determinedly on her fiery eyes.

“You better run fast, girl,” Lucifer growled out, savage enthusiasm edging his voice, “I’ll give you a ten-second head start.” 

Sabrina scrambled to her feet with a yelp, frissons of excitement pouring over her. She was unsteady at first, her heart beating frantically in her ears, but soon she was racing away like a frightened hare on the wide-open plains. 

Lucifer definitely cheated. 

Almost as soon as she had broken out into a run, Sabrina glanced behind her and saw that the Devil was already giving chase. His legs were much longer than hers, crossing impossibly long distances in a few easy strides, so she pushed herself to run as fast as she could. He was barely a few feet behind her already, both of them shrieking with laughter, reckless with abandon. 

_‘How did this happen?’_ some small part of Sabrina protested fiercely, _‘he’s your mortal enemy!’_

The wild, pleasure-seeking side of Sabrina silenced that nagging voice almost immediately, drowning it out with raucous laughter, the pounding of her feet on the grassy ground, and the furious pumping of her arms. Her dress was a whirl of white, like a cotton cloud trailing behind her. With each step, her bare feet crushed wildflowers that covered the earth like the myriad stars bathed the sky. 

They dashed amongst the hedges, the dense little corpses of trees, running away from their sanities in order to find their souls. Sabrina felt excitement thrumming through her veins like electricity, as they cut swiftly across the clear, him chasing her with playful growls, her giggling and just out of his reach. Sabrina swivelled her head wildly, her breath coming out in short pants, and absorbed the flurry of passing greenery and the fragrant night. She noticed for the first time the elegant sculptures that sprung sporadically from the earth, bone-white marble in the classical style, noble and naked and neutrally expressive. 

Lucifer lightly took hold of Sabrina’s shoulders, but she slipped out of his grip, dancing away from him again. She was sure he could have easily overcome her if he wanted to. But, looking into his face flushed brightly with predatorial glee, she could tell he was enjoying the pursuit. 

Continually glancing back over her shoulders to catch glimpses of Lucifer -- his handsome face sporting a look of determination and delight -- Sabrina blindly ran into a small, shady dene that was coursed with a dark and narrow stream. She almost stumbled and had to concentrate on finding her footing on the softened riverside, so much so that she almost didn’t notice what appeared ahead. 

A huge cave, hewn out of the rocky cliff, suddenly yawned before them. From its rough vault, ragged projections of broken rock hung, embossed with masses of snaking vines and moss. The black river, burbling over jagged, obsidian rocks, snaked into the maw of the cave and disappeared into its dense shadows. Sabrina halted in her tracks. Lucifer took this opportunity to scoop her up into his arms, spinning her wildly, evidently exultant in her capture. 

After what felt like an eternity in which Sabrina’s vision swam with swirling colour, Lucifer gingerly placed the girl back on her feet. The world kept spinning, and Sabrina clutched on to his strong shoulders for dear life. The Dark Lord’s face appeared first from the shadowy fray, floating handsomely as he grinned down at her vaingloriously. 

“I _won_ ,” he breathed triumphantly, “now, I want my prize.” 

Without further ado, Lucifer bent down to kiss the elegant column of Sabrina’s throat once more. His soft lips were warm, pressed against the flutter of her heartbeat, enticing a soft gasp from her throat. The pleasant gurgling of the creek was in time with the murmuring of her bloodstream as both sounds washed over her ears at once. 

But, that nagging voice inside Sabrina grew louder, more insistent. 

“What’s down there?” Sabrina asked, casting a sidelong glance into the inky dark of the cavern entrance. A dozen of marble sculptures, half-sunken in the muck of the riverside, gazed upon the scene they made with beautiful, yet impassive, gem-stone eyes. 

Without uttering a word in reply, a tearing noise sounded out as Lucifer ripped a huge strip from Sabrina’s ankle-length skirt, effortlessly cutting the thick fabric mid-way up her thighs. She looked tattered and delicate, like a ballerina who had seen better days.

“Hey!” Sabrina protested vehemently, “what was that for?” 

“Daddy wanted better access.” Lucifer pouted mockingly, sending a shiver of disgust down Sabrina’s spine. Well, she had somehow found her rebellious and disdainful attitude, and it had once again taken hold over her heart. _‘Better late than never,’_ she thought. 

“Seriously, though…” Sabrina muttered, steeling herself against his usual antics and adhering to the niggling feeling in her breast, “what’s down there?” 

“I don’t know,” Lucifer sighed, getting to his knees with a clinical air, uncaring of the wetness of the mucky ground, and lifted the mangled remains of Sabrina’s skirt to reveal her white-lace panties, “I’m making it my mission to find out, though.” 

He poked Sabrina’s sex questioningly. She swatted him away with an irritated huff. 

“You’re not funny,” the young witch scolded him, embarrassment creeping heat into her cheeks, though her eyes were as hard and distant as cold mountains. 

Sabrina didn’t know why, but the cave was calling to her. It felt like another instance where her dream was trying to tell her something was horribly wrong. Despite her lucidity, an intuitive part of the witch, previously silenced, was now screaming to be heard. Sabrina quickly formulated a plan to stall Satan, for the time being, so they might investigate together, or she might otherwise sneak away from him. 

Despite his protests, Sabrina kneeled before Lucifer on the giving ground, so that they were more or less face to face. The densely wooded dell provided much cover from the rays of the moon, so his countenance was bathed in the thick shadows of night. Cupping Lucifer's strong jaw in her hands, she forced his eyes to meet hers. Like twin lantern fires, lighting up the dark, his growing displeasure only fanned the flames in those jade orbs. 

“Sabrina,” Lucifer warned, a scowl etching his shadowed face with hard lines. 

The blonde-headed witch hushed the Dark Lord gently. She knew she didn’t want to incur his anger, not in the least, but she was also certain that she couldn’t simply ignore the feelings that persisted inside her. Sabrina was as fickle as the weather in spring. One moment, lust set her bones aglow with warmth and light, the next, she was drenched in a cool, incessant rain, which doused her wanton spirit and sent her flowing downstream to someplace where only her heart knew she needed to travel. 

Sabrina had been hesitating for too long. Lucifer looked positively venomous, peering at her narrowly from the darkness. He apparently hated that the offering of his warm prize, which he had earned, was delayed even further, leaving him cold and wanting. Sabrina needed to think quickly. 

“I want to taste you,” she told him suddenly, “every part of you.” 

Lucifer hummed shortly, perhaps still annoyed and impatient. In the shadows, his face was so close to Sabrina’s that she could smell the sweet fragrance of the lilacs that seemed to have rubbed off on his skin, and then his tongue was in her mouth. In all truth, she was not inviting his tongue; she had merely wished to look at his face, expecting only that the expression of aesthetic delight she might find there that would correspond to the oral act she was promising to perform on the parts of him she had yet to taste. But she did not even catch a glimpse of his face, so instantaneous and urgent was that devilishly forked-tongue. Plunged like some writhing sea-shape into her gaping maw, it all but overpowered her senses as it sought satisfaction from every inner inch of her; it wiggled, it pulsated, and made contortive sweeps of her mouth’s vault: She was certain at least once it turned upside down. Dolphin-slippery, less wet than deliciously warm and sweet-tasting, it had the power in itself to force Sabrina, or somehow get her back, against the muddy ground, where she lolled helplessly with her eyes clenched shut, in a trance of tongue. 

“No, stop,” Sabrina gasped out after a while, some flowers shaking loose from her hair like dreams as she struggled desperately, “L-Lucifer!” 

“What now, Sabrina?” he groaned exasperatedly, subtle anger lacing his tone like the muffled ticking of a time bomb. “You couldn’t possibly refuse me now.” 

Despite her obvious dissent, Lucifer would not let her go. If anything, his hold only tightened possessively about Sabrina’s trembling form, nearly painful in his force. 

“Take me into the cave,” the blonde-headed witch told him, her voice hard and unwavering, leaving no room for disagreement, or so she thought, “that’s where you can fuck me, Lucifer, however you like.” 

His gaze flickered over her face. There was not a trace of warmth, nor mirth, which had delighted her senses previously. Lucifer draped his evil about him like a funeral shroud. 

“These endless conditions bore me,” the Dark Lord sneered, the niceties he had sported earlier scattering just as surely as Sabrina’s loosened flowers littered the muddied ground, flitting fleetingly across the cold and dark beneath, “I could easily force myself on you, you stupid girl. You think that just because you trap me in this horrendously romantic setting, suddenly I would become something other than myself? Somehow, I could love you?” Lucifer let loose a caustic laugh that corroded Sabrina to the core, leaving her as brittle and flaking as rusted metal, breaking apart in her anger and despair. “You wish for me to be like one of your silly boys, soft and malleable, don’t you? You’re just a child, Sabrina. Your tiny, teasing hands cannot shape me. You forget that I’m the Devil, a conqueror of souls. And your body and soul are mine to possess whether you like it or not.” 

“You’re evil,” Sabrina spat, spite making her flush like a cherry blossom, “I don’t want your love, and I will never, ever set you free! You can rot for all I care. Then, your outside would match your inside, and the whole world would know you _stink_.” 

Lucifer’s eyes widened imperceptibly in the black of night, then he laughed incredulously, a cold and harsh sound. 

“You really are a stupid, stupid girl,” he chuckled darkly, shaking his head, “I don’t care anymore. Keep me chained, I _will_ find a way out. And I will make you suffer manifold for these humiliations you’ve inflicted on me.” 

Sabrina paled. This was her greatest fear, that Lucifer would discover he didn’t need nor want her anymore and would treat her accordingly. She might’ve just screwed up her coven’s only hope of salvation. She felt apprehension dawn over her like a stark and terrible winter, as brutal as the incessant night that plagued the far arctic in the coldest months. 

Sabrina’s tattered dress had bunched up around her hips when he had laid her down. With a ferocious snarl, and in one fell swoop, Lucifer tore off the girl’s underwear and exposed her sensitive nakedness to the bitingly cool air. He was already hard and aching, she could feel his arousal as he pressed against her, that horrifically tented fabric filled her with fear. In the next moment, he was free from the constraints of his trousers and positioned his bare, leaking cock at her entrance. This time, there was no teasing touches, no loose pleasures that merely hinted at the rawness of sex. 

Lucifer intended to rape her. 

Sabrina felt her terror build to a crescendo, a cry of dismay frantically bubbling in her throat, merely escaping as a weak, lamb-like keen as she tossed her head back and forth. Her little fists beat against the rock-solid front of his bare chest yet did nothing to dissuade him. The Dark Lord was as inescapable as iron bars locked around her. And she felt as helpless as a suffering prisoner, stuck in a block of darkness between peeling walls, permeated with a stench that suddenly seemed to her like rot: his thick arousal and sickly, sweet-smelling breath. 

“This could have been easier on you.” Lucifer pursed his lips. “I did want to treat you nicely, my little pet. But you continually disobey me.”

“No, no, no, no!” Sabrina wailed. Her panic had seized her muscles up completely. She couldn’t think nor move. How could she ever have thought, even for a moment, that she could let herself submit to his carnality and there would be no repercussions? He was a beast. She could never forgive him. 

The most frightening grin split Lucifer’s maw widely in twain, like the splintering of wood, it cracked open his handsome face to reveal rows of glimmering white teeth, sharp and monstrous and hungry for her flesh. There was not a shred of mercy in his countenance. He was soaked in the cesspools of brutality, like a conqueror who would bathe himself in the blood of innocents and enemies alike, giddy with the wreckage he had reaped with his unforgiving hands. His eyes were manically bright, gleaming opalescent in the shadows, committing every contorted curve of Sabrina’s horrified expression to memory. 

“You wanted this,” Lucifer snarled at her through his teeth, his chilling smile never ceasing, to her dismay, “you want daddy inside you, Sabrina.” 

He began to breach her impossibly tight sheath, farther than he had before, and immediately Sabrina felt searing pain between her legs. She screamed for him to stop. He pushed on without hesitation, so slowly it made the agony all the worse. The fire that consumed her insides was unlike that which Lucifer had ever sparked in her before. It was not the burning of her desire, nor her wrath which raged like hellfire -- it was sheer, unadulterated pain that stabbed Sabrina internally with a white-hot poker and branded her from the inside out. 

Lucifer was violating her. And he relished every minute of it. 

“I hate you!” Sabrina shrieked, her shrill voice drowning out the peaceful sounds of the lively night and the rippling stream. “You’re disgusting! You’re a monster!” 

“I’m not even fully in.” Lucifer rolled his eyes, though he was affected by the strain of taking one as unwilling as her; she could see it in the sweat that beaded on his brow and the hard glint in his eyes. “Relax, Sabrina.” 

Sabrina clenched her internal muscles with all her might, locking him out as effectively as if drawing up a castle-bridge and sealing invaders out of the solid walls. Her dress was stained with mud, the back of her silvery hair was caked with it, her flowers were loosened and lacking lustre, dusted with dirt. He had taken her virginal brightness, her purity, and made her vile. 

“You’re a filthy girl,” Lucifer intoned sulkily, as if reading her thoughts, “you need this so badly. Don’t shut me out, not anymore.” 

“You really are…” Sabrina cried, her voice shaking pitifully, “a… a monster!” 

She shoved mightily against his chest, one last-ditch effort to force him off of her. Suddenly, surpassing even Sabrina’s most far-fetched hopes, she seemed to find great purchase. Lucifer had to dig his hands into the muck to keep himself from reeling too far backwards. He bent his head so low his face was shrouded with a mass of chestnut curls, his powerful upper body contorting in a bow-like shape over her, quivering with tension. In fact, he began to tremble violently all over, sending jolts through those silky strands like electricity. Tremulous cries of pain leaked from his lips and sounded like music to Sabrina’s ears. She realized that she had forced his invading member out of her entrance and breathed a great sigh of relief at the empty, aching feeling which pervaded her center, her own body shaking from head to toe. 

Lucifer’s head lolled back and forth, groaning desperately. Then, he released a startling cry that pierced the night air and soared higher than the treetops, chilling Sabrina to the core. 

“No, no, no,” Lucifer hollered, shockingly, “what… what did you do, you bitch? I’m burning, burning!” 

“What?” Sabrina gaped at him, sitting up, her fear transforming into something much more sinister. A sick sense of accomplishment overtook her as she saw Lucifer lurch to his feet like a drunkard, his trousers half undone, clutching his head between his hands as if it was in danger of being split open. Every inch of his skin turned ruddy and his mouth slobbered out his agony. 

“I’m on fire!” the Dark Lord shrieked, “You’re burning me alive!” 

Sabrina saw that his flesh began to ripple and bubble, changing shape and colour before her very eyes. Lucifer's form was not aflame externally, but molten lava seemed to consume him just beneath the surface, melting him bone-deep and twisting his shape into something unrecognizable, horrendously large and black-brown like seared meat. She heard his bones grind and crack as he doubled over, tumbling awkwardly away from her and falling down prone in the reedy mire. Despite the unbelievable pain that inflamed his every nerve, Lucifer plunged fist after fist into the mud, his knuckles popping sickeningly, dragging himself towards the stream to douse the fire that consumed him internally. Lucifer’s suffering was so great he could not even howl out anymore. He was so eerily silent, Sabrina could hear the broiling of his innards like thick meat sizzling on a red-hot pan. 

With a great heave, Lucifer delved into the shallow water like a slippery seal, disappearing behind the reeds immediately adjacent to the river, swallowed by the inky black. 

“Serves you right!” Sabrina called after him, finally having found her voice, as mad laughter threatened to spill forth, “that’s a taste of your own medicine, Lucifer!” 

Not even a minute passed before Sabrina regretted those words with all her being. 

What emerged from the water was not the Lucifer she had grown accustomed to. It wasn’t the one she had pined after, in carnal need, the soft and affectionate lover, nor the lunatic that tried to rape her then suffered the flames of that twisted passion. Rather, an immense, furred form straightened itself like the innumerable wisps of a willow tree stiffened taut in a harsh wind. Lucifer stalked out of the reeds, his goat head huffing out hot breaths that curled upwards like smoke and wreathed about his horns. The slamming of his massive hoofs disturbed the mud and sent it flying in every direction. Every inch of his giant form rippled with unbridled rage. He was awash in the black of night, but his eyes were darker than anything Sabrina had ever seen, like the infinite, starless abyss of the furthest reaches of the universe. Like two black holes that sucked her in and crushed her breathless. 

“Look what you’ve done,” Lucifer ground out, his voice inhumanly low, his fury so frightening it twisted Sabrina’s insides like a screw. 

The sculptures that were poised elegantly about them seemed to sink further in the bubbling mud. Their marble skin, pure white as milk, disappeared inch by into the black mire. Sabrina could only watch the scene in mute horror. Bit by bit, the figures broke free from their beautiful holds, the marble cracking away and falling into the mud, exposing gruesome masses of gnarled flesh to the chill air. Their faces were monstrous, torqued and vengeful, desperate to claw their way free and make their way towards Sabrina -- to taste her flesh and swallow her tears and screams. They were demons from Hell. And they wanted to consume her. 

Sabrina felt terror flood her like a tidal wave. She lurched to her feet and broke out into yet another run. She didn’t dare glance back this time to see how closely Lucifer was following her, or if his minions had completely broken free and given chase as well. 

The witch, sadly adorned in her ruined dress and tattered flowers, pealed across the beaten path beside the river and into the maw of the massive cave. She needed to know what was down there and there was little else to go. The black was oppressive and heavy with the scent of the shallow river and decaying things. Sabrina couldn’t see an inch in front of her and stumbled over jagged rocks in her bare feet, crying out as they cut her. She couldn’t be sure, but she felt as if Lucifer was breathing down her neck, aching and panting for the chance to wreak his revenge. 

She had changed him. 

She had returned him to his Baphomet form. 

And she would suffer the consequences. 

The darkness relented, shade by shade, until Sabrina found herself bathed in a bioluminescent light from strange, silvery flowers that snaked over the black-rock walls. The cave had expanded into yet another lush garden, overflowing with herbs and fruits, unknowable in their kinds -- they were not like those which sprung from Earth’s fruitful womb, sweet and well-savoured. These florae were dire, deadly black in both leaf and bloom, fit to adorn the dead and deck a dreary tomb. 

Mournful cypress trees grew massively, circling the perimeter. Bitter fruits were loaded on gnarled oaks, sad ebonies sprouted all about her. Sleeping poppies, deadly nightshade, and snow-white hemlock peered at Sabrina like a thousand eyes from the semi-dark. 

Some half-remembered idea, more like an intuitive notion, took shape in Sabrina’s head. This was the garden of Persephone, queen of the underworld. The goddess was condemned to stay in the House of the Dead after eating its cursed fruit. Sabrina couldn’t help but think of herself, how she was continuously brought to the verge of tasting what should be forbidden to her -- Lucifer’s sensuous delights, which would likely entrap her in his infernal embrace for all eternity, distanced from everything she once knew and loved. 

In the midst of it all, there was a silver throne, standing erect in the thick shade of a tree. Its branches were broad above a sturdy trunk, clothed with leaves, laden with thick fruit. Those golden apples glistened brightly, a glory to behold, as such things never grew on Earth. No living person had ever seen them. 

In wonder at this tree, Sabrina momentarily forgot her troubles. It was so large, it shadowed all the ground, and its broad branches stretched themselves without bound over the great garden. Around it, the black river coiled like a huge snake, deep and bubbling like burning oil. As Sabrina neared it, she realized with dawning dread that within that broad stream souls endlessly wailed and wept. She climbed up to the bank, and looking down, she saw many damned souls in those sad waves, which dreadfully stank. With their piteous cries and shrieks, they made the further shore resound. Amongst the rest of those rueful condemned, one cursed creature Sabrina spotted by chance, drenched deeply on the garden’s side. 

She recognized him immediately. Pity and anxiety robbed her lungs of breath. 

It was Nick. 

He was submerged up to the chin, yet gaped still as if coveting to drink of the cold ichor which he waded in. Stretching forth his hand, he often thought to reach the fruit which grew upon the brink, but both the fruit from hand and flood from mouth flew away and made him toil in vain. While he starved with hunger and suffered from thirst, he died repeatedly, yet he could never thoroughly die. 

Sabrina felt her heart rend in two. 

She didn’t know if Nick was another dream wraith, or if she had summoned him from his body like she had Lucifer’s spirit, unwittingly. Lucifer had previously explained to her that because his powers were so weakened, he could only respond to the summons of her subconscious. Sabrina didn’t know if that was another one of his ploys to convince her that she wanted him desperately. But, if this was really Nick, then that fact might prove true. 

Sabrina couldn’t take the chance, either way. 

Nick cried out in agony, rescinding his extended hand to momentarily lapse beneath the waves as if attempting to drown himself, but his face remained stubbornly above water despite his best efforts. 

Sabrina delved her hands into the ice-cold river, which stained her coal-black up to the elbow, and gripped Nick by the wrist, heaving with all her might. Inch by terrible inch, she began to drag him out of the waves, which were keen to suck him back if she relented in the slightest. Sparing a moment from the all-consuming nature of their torture, some of those forsaken souls realized what was happening and dug their ghostly fingers into her boyfriend’s flesh in an attempt to be carried out along with him. Sabrina kicked them away mercilessly, it was the only way to get Nick free, and one by one they all went reeling back into the hellish waters with screams of anguish. The young witch let out a last, strangled cry of effort and tore Nick completely free of the horrible river. He popped out like a cork to splay heavily on top of her, frozen solid and drenched with black. 

Sabrina gently pushed Nick off of her and settled him upon the grassy plain in the shade of the tree. Though he was soaked in dark ichor, and staining every inch of her, Sabrina coddled him closely to soothe his laboured breathing, charming him with her love and tenderness. Nick peered at her with grateful eyes. His sweet self, curiously without dread or disdain, she sat beside, as he laid his head softly in her lap, where soon his breathing calmed, fearing not to be harmed. 

“Nick, is it really you?” Sabrina asked him tearfully, smoothing away the tar-black locks that stuck to his forehead. 

“I woke up here.” His voice escaped him like the creaking hinges of an old gate. “I don’t know why, Sabrina. One minute I was sleeping, and Lucifer had control, and the next I woke up so hungry and thirsty… and swallowed by that terrible black. I couldn’t get free, I couldn’t eat or drink, I felt like I was dying over and over.” 

“I’m so, so sorry, Nick,” Sabrina breathed, her insides cold and hollow, “I did this to you. This is a dream and I dragged you here.” 

“It’s okay, Spellman.” Nick offered her a crooked smile, though he couldn’t possibly understand why and how they were both there. “I’m just glad to see you. I’m glad to be anywhere else than stuck with Lucifer. But, why haven’t you visited me?” 

Sabrina’s heart lurched painfully as he asked her this. Her stomach seemed to shrivel to the size of a fist as she realized what that meant. 

Lucifer had lied to her. Again. 

Nick hadn’t been forced to watch those disgusting moments Sabrina had shared with her father. He had indeed been wrestled unconscious. And that meant that Sabrina had abandoned her boyfriend for nothing, convinced that he knew of her betrayal and wished for her death. After that lie, being with Lucifer had been easier, because the worst had already occurred. 

“The coven’s in trouble,” Sabrina explained quietly, regretfully, “there’s a new threat and we have no powers… The last body I tried to get for you didn’t end up working out, but I know something will turn up soon, and when Ambrose gets back he can help me…” 

“Please, Sabrina,” Nick implored her, his eyes suddenly wide and frightened, “you don’t know how bad it is with him. You have to help me.” 

Sabrina hushed him and bent down to press her lips to his with infinite gentleness. Nick softly acquiesced to her attentions, allowing Sabrina access into the warm vault of his mouth. Her wordless sorrow communicated itself in the slow sweep of her tongue across his. 

As if to spite them, Sabrina heard sickeningly gleeful shrieks echoing out from farther down the cave, quickly approaching, and the unmistakable sound of clopping hooves which was much closer. She didn’t want to let Nick go. If something terrible was going to happen to them, she wanted her last moments to be in his arms with the taste of him on her tongue. 

A furious roar at the mouth of the cavern caused Nick to snap his head away from hers. With scorn in her eyes and secret fear in her heart, Sabrina cast her gaze to the creature that had caused the ruckus. Nick blanched in horror, training his wide eyes on the impressive figure that stalked towards them with violence emanating off of him in waves. 

Lucifer bore the rigour of his disdain, striding stiff and bold, for he would defy the highest God. His look was stern and full of vain pride. His countenance was menacing, his stature tall, far surpassing the height of terrestrial men, seemingly as huge as a giant of the Titan race; it made him scorn all creatures great and small, and with his pride deface all other’s power. He was more fit among black fiends than men. 

As soon as he spotted Sabrina’s glittering face, white in her terror, that with brightness made the darkness light, his harmful hands he set upon her, and tore off her flowery ornaments with a vicious growl. Nothing abashed this villain. To her eyes, his beauty was once worth high heaven, but the dark nether world had dimmed him with horror and deformity. 

“You do in a few minutes what God could only have done in a hundred years,” Lucifer thundered, rage making his already monstrous voice all the more threatening, “and then you run off and summon this pitiful creature… holding him like that… what, did you want him to finish the job I had started?” 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Nick panicked and attempted to get to his feet, but Sabrina held him down, fearing for his safety when Lucifer was thus enraged. 

But the Dark Lord had other ideas. 

With bone-crushing force, he took Sabrina by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet. The stench of his animal breath wafted in her face, steaming. Lucifer held her mere inches away from his goat-head, lifting her off the ground. She saw her panicked reflection in the gleam of his jet black eyes, which had consumed the whites entirely, like a shark approaching its kill. 

“You are _mine_ ,” Lucifer growled, “We were lovers before you were even born in this world." 

Sabrina bit her lip, feeling afraid, but refused to turn her face away. 

“I don’t belong to _anyone_ ,” Sabrina whimpered past the pain of Lucifer's vice-like grip, but nothing could subdue the spirit behind her words. She was angry and entirely sick of his cruelty. 

Lucifer snarled and tossed Sabrina like a ragdoll to the grassy ground. In her peripheral, she saw that Nick had gotten to his feet, his face a mess of confusion and anger. With a great uproar, the fiends of Hell exploded into the garden at that moment and pressed to draw nearer, their terrible, malformed faces contorted in rage.

Nick, slippery with oil-like water, took on a determined look that stamped away his inner turmoil. He slammed his fist to his open palm, summoning a small amount of power from a hidden well within him, and yelled: _“Merge nos et spirituum!”_

At the moment when the fiends should have reached them, Lucifer flew into Nick with a roar and they both crumbled away like dust upon impact, coating the grassy ground with a pile of black sand. 

Nick had bound Lucifer back into his body. 

They were gone. 

And Sabrina remained. 

Those hellish creatures descended upon Sabrina like a tornado of teeth and claws and tore at her with savage cries of delight. The pitiful witch screamed in agony, feeling every slobbering bite and jagged rip. She punched and kicked with all her might, but they would not relent. They shredded her flesh from her bones, her limb from limb. Like hungry wolves, they swallowed the gruesome, bloody bits. It was an eternity of pain before Sabrina’s vision flooded with crimson and she slipped away from the nightmare like a soul escaped the body upon death. 

She woke in her bed but would not open her eyes. 

Instead, Sabrina cried through her lids until there were no more tears to shed and she was as dried and empty as a husk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, a lot just happened. Bear with me. 
> 
> This update was like a mountain I had to scale and I almost died halfway. But I can't help but love it, even so, writing this pairing is always fun. 
> 
> **Edit:** Sorry about the whole scenario with Lucifer and the rape scene, some of you are pretty shocked, but my mind got away from me considering his status as the Devil. If it makes up for it at all, he definitely didn't fully enter Sabrina and it is only a dream after all, but you know, the vibes are pretty terrible anyhow. The next chapter will more or less solve these issues that are plaguing you all. 
> 
> As always, please leave me some kudos and comments. I thrive off of your reactions and thoughts, my darlings.
> 
>  **Merge nos et spirituum** : latin for 'merge, and our spirits' ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	6. Chapter 6

A silence. A nothingness. 

That was all that greeted Sabrina in the vast realm of her dreams. 

Lucifer had vanished into the warring void, and he hadn’t returned. For some reason, Sabrina’s sleep was not any more peaceful, as she might have expected. Instead, the girl tossed and turned all night, every night, somehow missing those arms that used to wrap about her. Even the rage that would spill from her like water overflowing a cup was better than this empty feeling which pervaded her senses. 

Sabrina felt utterly spent. 

Used up and discarded, like waste. 

And she knew, deep in her bones, that her brief affair with Lucifer was over. She was certain that he would never return to haunt her dreams, not once. Everything she most feared, yet so desperately desired, was erased from her life for good. Even now, with her eyes clenched tightly shut in the dark, Sabrina could see his mocking smile blaze like wax paper in her memory and then quickly fade from view, replaced by something gnarled and furious, distorted by the burning ravages of Hell. 

Sabrina felt nervous shivers run along her backbone, anchoring in her trembling, perspiring thighs, like melting glacial slabs. Tiny frissons of disquiet, barely there, tingling again up her backside. In her mind, Sabrina envisioned the ghost-like press of fingerprints preceding those shudders. _‘Yes,’_ she thought, _‘he touched me over and over. Here, here, here.’_ Those phantom fingerprints increased sharply in pressure as she dwelled on the thought of them, on the sick, slick twistedness of it all, until, in her franticness, Sabrina imagined they were replaced by the razor-sharp claws from her feverish nightmare. Momentarily, in her mind, those demons pierced her again with such perverted violence, shredding and maiming, drenching her with gore, gobbling up her vital bits. Sabrina felt her belly squeeze violently and turn over. _‘No, this fear isn’t real,’_ she reminded herself firmly, tucked safely in her bedsheets, willing her breath to cease its sudden erratic rhythm. 

Some time had passed since the nightmare had properly haunted Sabrina — since the memory was fresh in her mind, aching and oozing like a putrefied wound. Morphing Lucifer into that hateful entity, she’d seen him explode with the force of a supernova; and into the abysmal black hole remaining, her boyfriend and the creature of her torment had vanished together. Then, those cursed beasts, the fiends from Hell, descended on Sabrina with a vengeance. The girl’s humanity was almost ripped clean off by the horror implanted in her mind that night. 

But, whatever was left of Sabrina, oh, Heaven, how she longed for Lucifer to possess her mind once more – at least let him be with her discretely if he wouldn’t allow her to be in his direct presence. Stupid, stupid girl that she was. Yes, she knew she was a fool for feeling the way that she did. She only realized that she was so enamoured by Lucifer when he continued to refuse to grant her the dubious pleasure of his company. Why did she find herself wishing for a moment, only a moment, mind you – to deride him further, to grudgingly allow his affections, to submit to his gentle harassments? In any case, Lucifer wouldn’t allow her to see him anymore, under any circumstances whatsoever. Not since that night. When Sabrina implored him to come forth, pleaded with him, even, it was only Father Blackwood who greeted her disdainfully, his blank, pin-slitted eyes staring, staring, staring, as he spittled at her like a vapid madman, shouting that her silly efforts were in vain. 

Lately, loneliness was the ghost that crept under Sabrina's skin. 

The young witch felt her warlock stir beside her suddenly; he kicked off the blankets. They both ran rather hot these days, too, didn't they? Even Nick’s return did little to assuage Sabrina’s distress. Her boyfriend still spent time with her, he kissed her, he even smiled at her in that distant, ironically bitter way of his. But he was so far away, so cold. Nick wasn’t the same boy he had been before merging with Lucifer. And he never ever thanked Sabrina for releasing him from the Dark Lord’s hold. Little by little, she felt that Nick was drawing further away from her and receding into a darkness even more obsolete than her own. When she asked him about his time imprisoned with Lucifer, his eyes turned remote and icy, somehow finding a reason to go off and stew somewhere for days, apart from her, getting up to who knows what kind of mischief. He would purse his lips, glare at Sabrina, slink into the shadows like a spurned cat, as if she were to blame for the horrors that plagued him. Sabrina wasn’t dumb. She knew something was wrong with him, just as something was wrong with her; in fact, they probably suffered from a similar ailment. Lucifer had polluted them both with his sickness, his rot, putrefying them from the inside out. And here they were, Sabrina and Nick, together again, yet so far apart, experiencing withdrawals for sheer want of someone else. The Dark Lord. Now, in each other’s arms, expiring slowly as they’re apart from _him_. 

Sabrina couldn’t take it anymore. She slipped from Nick’s hold like a watery eel, lurching to stand unsteadily on her wobbly legs. She peered through her sleepy, swollen lids at her room, bathed in pale, pre-morning light, and immediately caught a glance of herself in the mirror. She looked like a slip of shadow in one’s peripherals – inconstant, ever-changing. Sabrina’s bare feet, looking blue and wane like the moon, propelled her towards the full-length mirror in order to get a better view of herself. The young witch gawked at her own reflection. She looked tired. And unnaturally skinny, even in her lumpy old pyjamas. Also, curiously, as if someone had put the light out inside her. She had lost her shininess, her joy. 

“Was it worth it?” she heard a voice ask, nearly spiteful. “Getting sucked into his spell?”

Sabrina didn’t startle. Not because she wasn’t surprised that Lilith was in her bedroom, uninvited, just shy of sunrise — she saw Lilith's familiar reflection perched in a chair in a shadowy corner, like a carrier crow waiting for its next meal — no, but because the girl lacked the wherewithal to respond, to jump, or to cry. She was an empty vessel. 

Seeing that Sabrina made no move to acknowledge her, Lilith stood up and silently crept forward; she stepped into the frame of the mirror, looming ominously over the girl’s left shoulder. Not offering to explain her presence, acting as if this was completely normal behaviour, Lilith peered at Sabrina’s reflection with piercing eyes that seemed to _know_ — know what, exactly, Sabrina wasn't sure. The young witch was washed in the dark miasma emanating off of the other. Lilith was a black crow, high-heeled, raven-haired, bones-on-bones-on-bones, unto-death kind of peeved at Sabrina. But, with all that murderous energy washing over her, the girl was discomfited not by Lilith but by the look in her own eyes. It was blank. As if the spark behind them had been snuffed out. She raked her brains for a simple thought to inspire an adequate response to Lilith: Was she to be angry, confused, or accepting of these accusations the demoness levelled against her? Or, perhaps was there to be another, less unpleasant look to sculpt her face, instead of this slack-jawed, white visage that floated eerily before her? No, none of that, Sabrina wanted a feeling to burgeon life inside her — a single reaction, one that didn’t stem from her desperate need of _him_ , that’s all she wanted. 

“Do you think I was born yesterday?” Lilith continued, an icy edge to her hushed tone — she was aware that Nick was sleeping mere feet from them, but there was something else lurking in that gentle lilt, too: the ghastly mother in her that was sad to see a young one fail and commit the same mistakes she had in youth. “I’ve known, ever since that night you danced with the Dark Lord, you’ve been slipping more and more under his spell. I can see it, clear as night. As empty as you are now,” Lilith went on, “at one point, the Dark Lord filled you up completely, didn’t he? More than completely. Do you know how I know that?” 

“How?” Sabrina heard herself ask. 

“Because I _was you_ ,” Lilith breathed in her ear, almost hissing, “and, for a while, I loved it.”

Before Sabrina could formulate an answer, or know in the moment how to formulate an answer, Lilith started talking about the risk, the appeal, as to why belonging to the Dark Lord was seemingly all worth it, at first.

“That buzz,” Lilith began, the pouty, breathy, achy look of desire that fell across her features attracting Sabrina’s eye like a magnet. “The deference, the legions. All that confident, fantastic, elemental male presence. It’s a force of nature. It’s that he takes control, he keeps control, he has everybody wrapped around his finger.” Listening to these sultry words — fervent whispers spilling on top of each other like quiet, grasping hands in the dark — Sabrina learned that not only was the average man incapable of coming close to the Dark Lord’s power and greatness, but the average woman wasn’t up either, to being the mistress of the Devil. “Wouldn’t be able to stand it,” Lilith told her. “Would long for that lifestyle but be too repressed for it – far, far too fearful of it. The common witch,” she said, “nice, ordinary, boring – she can’t have that. She loves dully,” she went on. “Takes no gamble, is terrified of risk, fills her life with timid tasks and mundane men, not creatures of high calibre, of the high-wire, commanding the tumultuous, the unpredictable. These witches live the secure, safe bubble, the day-to-day, decent bubble. But who wants sleepy bubbles when you can have the excitement of the power, the stimulus of control, even of cruelty. All that explosive, cunning, corrosive advancement. Don’t you just love,’ Lilith goaded her, ‘the sudden erotic alarm?’ 

So, it was wrong, terribly wrong, because listening to Lilith, this strange, self-satisfied, out-of-place woman, it was clear to Sabrina that they’d shared an understanding. And everything she’d thought about herself – of her turning of the blind eye, of her vagueness, of her blocking from consciousness all the dark deeds and sexual atrocities, seemed instead to be the very requirements that were attracting her on, just like Lilith. Not a case of being unable to face reality. More a case, she realized, of getting out the magnifying glass and having a good gawk at it. And for that infamous woman – she who misreads the bad boys, who mistakes the bad boy for the good boy and strives to tame and transform some socially misunderstood man who hadn’t really meant all that mayhem – it was obvious this woman wasn’t Sabrina. Here was a girl who did love the sound of breaking glass.

As Lilith spoke on – of her secret behaviours, her carnality, of pain being arousing so that she trained herself not to resist, so that always she would be going around in pleasure, so that always pain all the time was pleasure; also of being in toils, in trance, unable to act voluntarily; racing hearts, she said, skin ripples, permanent states of arousal – it got to the point where Sabrina’s master control couldn’t cope any longer and just as with Lucifer whenever he would get into an overload of erotic talk, Sabrina stanched all openings to block the voice out. 

Lilith didn’t even get to the part where she proved that the Devil's love wasn’t worth all the risk. 

The demoness eventually trailed off, too enamoured in her memory of every bit of Lucifer that was worth it, worth everything she could give and more. After wrestling from Sabrina a vague assurance that her duties in Hell would be properly attended to and that the girl would never ever, under any circumstances, let Lucifer go – or, even visit him at all for that matter – Lilith finally conceded to leave her alone. She promised Sabrina herself that she wouldn’t drop by unannounced again, in this untoward manner, unless an issue of similar import struck her at the same hour. Well, that was that. Lilith would likely be back again to harass her in the wee hours at some point in the future. And Sabrina would probably visit Lucifer again that very day, just to check-in. So it goes. 

Thankfully, Nick was a very heavy sleeper, otherwise Sabrina might have had great cause for concern. When she lifted the covers to get back into bed, however, she was frightened when she saw him flutter his eyes open. He tried to touch her then, but Sabrina pulled away, then stepped away, right away, from him. She dropped the blanket over his reaching arm. Before Lucifer, Nick’s touch, those fingers, his hands, had been the best, the most, the absolute loveliest. But now, since Lucifer, any part of Nick coming towards her brought up in her mounting bouts of revulsion and a feeling that she might at any moment be sick. He was repulsing her, her own boyfriend was repulsing her, and even though Sabrina did not want to be repulsed and was trying her best not to become aware she was repulsed, she found herself blaming him for feeling it and for not being able to reason herself out of it. Instead, she’d fling his hand, fling his fingers, push him off, tense up, have stomach pains. Sabrina knew too, that this was because of Lucifer but she couldn’t figure out how it could be him. In all the time since he had set his sights on her and had started in on destroying her, still only that first time in the witch's cell had Lucifer ever sexually touched her when it truly mattered, that is to say, outside of her dreams. Although he perpetually said lewd or mocking or outright provocations to Sabrina. Most importantly Lucifer hadn’t laid a finger on her in the real world when she didn’t want it. Not one finger. Not once.

That was the problem, wasn't it? She questioned her own sanity. The witch pendulum-swinged, back and forth, back and forth, between two completely contradictory emotions – hate and something else entirely, a feeling that she feared to name.

Sometime later, Sabrina was casually going about a routine run-by of Lucifer’s cell. She didn’t expect much from it, she hardly ever did this past couple of weeks. Her hopes had been dashed several failed attempts ago. She was just going through the motions, a small comfort, if only to reassure herself that Lucifer still did not want to speak to her and was not trying to summon her while she was away. But as Sabrina approached the witch's cell, with a sinking feeling in her breast, she heard familiar voices ring out far down the echoing hallway:

_...You want it, you want me..._

_...I'll fuckin'_ kill _you, you've ruined me, ruined..._

Lucifer and Nick. Shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sabrina halted in her tracks. Her boyfriend sounded raw, half-dead, sickened by grief and rage. Here he was, confronting the cursed creature that tormented them both to no end, sounding as if he was stepping into the Devil's hungry maw just to prove that the demon hadn't succeeded in eating him up whole the last time. Sabrina could barely hear them but hesitated to step closer, lest she alert them to her presence.

 _...Do you know how good it could feel?..._ taste _it, do it, don't be afraid..._

_...Fuck you, bastard..._

The blonde-headed witch stepped a hairsbreadth closer, hovering in the hallway, inching closer, closer, more closer.

_...Give in... release me..._

_G've to me... Yes, that, I'll do it, I will, I will. Shut up. I need it..._

Luckily, the heroine burst unto the scene just in the nick of time – unmistakably she heard her boyfriend agree to release Lucifer, as per the dreadful terms of their contract, and rushed into the cell to intervene mere moments before he could fulfill his end of the bargain. As soon as Sabrina appeared Lucifer groaned out in frustration and reverted back to Faustus’ confused, slumped form, who groggily peered at them from his narrowed lids. So, Lucifer refused to so much as allow Sabrina a fleeting glimpse of his face. Cruel, stubborn bastard that he was. So be it.

In her distraction, she was careless. Sabrina was so completely concerned with Lucifer in the moment – ensuring the continued integrity of his imprisonment, staying his diabolical plans, and even just quietly suffering to herself, suffering for her eyes to look upon his face – so, she had committed a fatal error. She left the vial with its deadly, dark ichor sitting cold on the ground, forgotten. And Nick, slipping past her notice, had secreted it into his palm to consume as soon as her back was turned. They didn't even make it as far as the hallway. As her boyfriend tumbled face-first on the threshold, foaming at the mouth like an overworked horse staring blankly into the muzzle that would spell his end, Sabrina heard Blackwood’s unmistakable cackle sound out from within that desolate cell. But it was tinged with a sort of echo. Someone else, within him, was laughing too. 

Lucifer’s poison was forced out of Nick, drop by painstaking drop, thanks to Ambrose’s effective, yet admittedly inhumane, method of detoxification. Sabrina pitied her boyfriend above all else. Nick probably thought that with the Devil gone, his fear would die along with him and he, himself, could carry on living. He could party it up, let his hair down, continue from where he left off. Never do they realize, these psychological usurpers and possessors, that in dispensing with the host – the one being with whom they grew to entwine themselves and depend on for their own survival – inevitably they are also dispensing with themselves. Sabrina stared at Nick then, as he was being brutally detoxed. He was of an ill pallor, sweat on his brow, difficulty breathing, eyes wretched with impairment and with his bone-white hands clutching still to the floorboards. He was plucking at them as if in a fever. Maybe he was in a fever. And he was tissue-paper thin, not only in his body but in every aspect of him. He was wired, undercurrents becoming overcurrents, sensitivities and early warning systems, all his nerves overwhelmed and overwhelming. In desperate need for a clean slate, the spell purged all but his aching spirit from his bones. Sabrina wanted to help but she didn’t know how to help. If anything, she felt herself pulled in. Nick said her name then, her last name, and that felt warm, friendly, it felt a relief, far from her expectation of _‘You did this to me!’_

Then it was, “Kill me, please.” 

Sabrina gaped at Nick wordlessly. Then, knowing not what else to do, she left him there. Alone. The frightened, little witch let that dreadful plea wither away on her boyfriend’s suffering lips and die in his stead. It was best this way, she convinced herself, Ambrose, too, said this. Nick needed to be left alone to recover. And anytime the memory of his words haunted her, begging her for death, she reaffirmed this thought in her head: _Nick needs time, alone, to recover._ And that's that. 

The Queen of Hell had grown inattentive, drowsy throughout her days because she’d jump awake at night in her bed and not be able to return to sleep again. Partly these were urges that she should get up again and search her room to make sure Lucifer or his demon hordes had not gotten in since last time before bed when she’d searched it; jumping awake also, because of nightmares that she’d turned into the sickly, suicidal Nick when Lucifer’s toxins were being exorcised from him. 

The house too was having a go. Raps, noises, movements, agitations of the air, displacement of objects. It was banging and retorting and causing discordance – all to berate Sabrina, to warn her, to call attention to the threat that already she knew was surrounding her. And always this would be in her bedroom right in the middle of the night. A thump on the bedside table would wake her up. Things would rattle, such as a picture on the wall, or a hammering would break out on her floor right below her. Or maybe the bedroom door would start to shake. One time the spirits of the home tugged away Sabrina’s blanket and flung her feet and lower legs across the bed with such force that her whole torso almost tipped over and fell out of it. 

Aunt Zelda shouted from her room, “For the love of Lilith, children, I’m trying to have a night’s reading here before sleep. What’s all that banging?”

With Ambrose shouting from his room, “It’s not me, Auntie! I’m sleeping. It’s Sabrina.” 

“It’s not me!” Sabrina shouted. “It’s the house. The spirits of the house. I’m sleeping, too.” 

Apart though, from Sabrina’s guess that the house was telling her to do something, and that it was something about Lucifer, she didn’t know what it was expecting she should do. It had taken to awakening her, however, so that then she’d stay awake, with her corresponding lack of sleep at night-time leading to overwhelming sleepiness and dullness during the daytime. It got to the point where twice now her Aunties had her sit down to have words. By now too, cheerleading had lost its sparkle, or Sabrina had lost her eagerness for that sparkle. It became less exciting, more _‘What’s the point? There’s no point’_ and she became wearied, finding it more of an effort each week to get herself to it. It was as if she’d forgotten her life. All because of her stubbornness and besottedness with Lucifer and her inability to sensibly prioritize and accept that sometimes you have to concede, have to let go, maybe you have to lose face, that some things compared to other things are just not worth fighting for. Why then? Why did she come back to him, again and again? Look, here she was, right at this moment. Like the tides stuck fast to the magnetic pull of the moon, Sabrina remained close to Lucifer, as best she could, as if by nature. At some point, the girl had begun to feel that she was most in her element when she was next to him, alone. But _when_ exactly did Sabrina decide to make her way down these dark, twisted halls, to his cell? She didn’t know.

“Lucifer,” the young witch intoned when she arrived, casting her steely gaze down at Father Blackwood in near contempt. “C’mon out, dad, I want to make a deal.” 

“A deal with the devil?” Faustus tutted ironically. He was curled into a pathetic little ball of aged bones and sagging skin, murmuring nothings to the floor, pressing his face against it, blowing air through his lips. 

“It’s been weeks,” Sabrina retorted waspishly. “Weeks. So, when are we going to see each other again?” She pretended as if she were speaking directly to Lucifer in the hopes that this would provoke a reaction out of him. She strongly suspected he was listening to her. “Don’t you have anything, at all, to say?” 

The _clackity-clack-clack_ of his long fingernails on the stone unnerved her and she visibly flinched. At that, Faustus laughed and laughed. His dry chortles racketed off the stone floor and, transforming into breathless heaves, echoed off the close, cavern-like walls and filled her with dread. Then it was, grounded out through his teeth with the utmost disdain, “You arrogant brat. Do you think the Dark Lord gives half a shit about you? You're filth compared to him, girl!” 

Sabrina had noticed – certainly at one point she had noticed – that often it could be discerned when Lucifer was up to something even when he thought he was concealing he was up to something. Wasn’t either, that some inner or verbal aspect of himself would be the only thing to give him away. His true nature also would be revealed by the very contaminated, off-kilter atmosphere in which he chose to surround himself. This energy field would accompany him as he closed the distance between them, whereupon descrying the mischievous twist of his lip, Sabrina’s own skin would crawl and the hairs would move up on the back of her neck. It was the contrast between that – all those powerful yet invisible indicators – and the supposedly innocuous, self-aggrandizing manner Lucifer assumed he was presenting to her that most would reveal to her he was not, for whatever reason, coming from the truth. Of course, Sabrina might not know why her father was dissembling and posing himself as someone else. Could be that it wasn’t to make a game of her, to invoke immoderate emotion in her or to lure her verbally to her detriment. Might have been some personal concern of his own about which vulnerably and humanly he felt a need to keep silent, but on which nonetheless he needed clarification or information from her.

Then there was his face in her peripherals, when she had turned away and he thought she wasn’t looking, the horizontal wolf with something about the nostrils, the ears getting bigger and bigger, and pointier and pointier, with his hairy shakiness and hind legs and forelegs and snout and teeth sprouting, with claws, long black ones, floccillating ones, with his tongue wagging Sabrina on, vexing himself unto death to have his keep over her, to keep her coming round to visit him, to insist on love from her.

Sabrina knew she had him, then. She had had him all along. Abandoning her natural tendency towards self-preservation, the young witch stepped into the pentagram and crouched on her haunches beside Faustus’ fetal form, placing a hand gingerly on his bony shoulder. Though waves of revulsion assaulted her at the feel and look of her hand against Blackwood’s saturnine skin, Sabrina persisted in her efforts in order to get Lucifer to show himself to her, saying, “I know it’s you, Lucifer. Please come out. I know you want to see me, too.” 

The cell had become eerily quiet, saturated with quietness. Ghostly, palely quiet it was, as if one hadn’t realized just how unquiet it had been until all that undercurrent of persistent pointed-nail clicking and grinding of angry teeth had stopped. The figure brushed off her hand as if it burned him suddenly. He began to stand up, facing away from her, looking unnaturally tall and imposing from her position on the floor; he unfurled more, more, more, until he seemed almost monumental – as cold and distant as a mountain range. 

It really was Lucifer. Finally, _finally_ , he had revealed himself to her. A wave of relief surged through Sabrina like a powerful ocean current, spiriting her away from her numbness into a newfound depth of feeling, of endless appreciation and contentment. She was home. At last, she was home. Unable to voice her own overwhelming sentiments, Sabrina got to her feet and almost shyly spoke to his back, “Aren’t you glad to see me?” 

“Don't assume what I’m thinking,” Lucifer said quietly, still stubborn, though subdued, facing away from her and staring into a middle distance that seemed to be – if one could judge correctly by his rigidness – a point that roused inexhaustible grievances. Unthinkingly, Sabrina reached a hand forward to touch his arm, and he responded by immediately relaxing into the touch. Inexplicably, defeat and destitution seemed to soak the Dark Lord to the spine and all of him suddenly looked as limp as a ragdoll, lacking his usual youthful vigour and vibrant lustre; it was as if she had sucked the life out of him with the simple press of her small hand. Lucifer even seemed skinnier than before, more translucent, if that were possible. “Don’t presume to know me, daughter," he continued, shaking her off, sighing, "because if you had any idea what I had planned for you, you wouldn’t speak so freely to me.” 

“What do you mean?” Sabrina asked him, stepping forward once, twice, three times, so she stood mere inches away from the heat radiating off of Lucifer’s strong, broad back. He was like a furnace. Or, really, like her own personal sun. It was incendiary to be in his presence again. 

“I know you want to make a deal with me,” Lucifer said at length, at last beginning to turn to her – he cast Sabrina a sidelong look, his exquisite profile in sharp relief in the flickering candlelight, golden and glowing like the harvest moon. “Well, I’ve been devising one of my own. And it turns out that it's in your best interest to do what I say when I say it, Sabrina. And that’s that.” 

Sabrina swallowed the sharp and immediate rejoinder that threatened to spring forth from her throat like a poisoned dart. She wanted to hear what he had to say, first. There was a gravity about Lucifer at the moment that belied his mischievous nature and made what he had to say seem of unprecedented importance. As if sensing her thoughts, he turned to her, then, the beauty of his look of masculine assuredness, his calm confidence, alluring the girl at once.

“And I will see to it,” he continued in that sultry tone of his, “about meeting your conditions, to protect this little playpen of yours you call the Earth, to let you lead your normal life here. I would leave the world untouched, for now–” Lucifer assured her with a vague smile, holding up his right hand as in oath – _scout’s honour!_ “–and I would leave you untouched, Sabrina. All I ask for in exchange is my freedom.” Sabrina sucked in a breath at this last bit of his speech. His eyes were intent, unwavering. Deep and placid, like still green waters in July. He seemed to register the minutiae of her reaction and take it all in easy stride. He had thought through this encounter very carefully. “I would rule in Hell as your regent until we are married, Sabrina,” he said. “Not to worry, I’ll see that you are assisted during those occasions when I myself aren’t available to you. I’ll get you safely to school, then, end of day, you’ll be collected from it. You’ll be spared the bother of a lover like Nicholas, of getting caught up in every riot and crossfire that wreaks across his damaged, drug-addled brain, and you’ll be spared the hassle of going to that little club you’re in, too. Child’s play, my dear.” 

Again, this was suggestion, with his continuing in that friendly, obliging vein, the one of doing her favours, of helping her out by taking her independence away, taking her boyfriend, taking away her cheerleading. There was no overt sense here that he could be transgressing so that perhaps again she was mistaken and he wasn’t transgressing. Maybe, he had detailed the best possible outcome for them both, if he kept his word. But Sabrina just wasn’t sure. And that’s what killed her. 

As Lucifer opened his mouth, once again to say something that Sabrina knew was going to unnerve her, her hands, which had absentmindedly reached to loosely cup his jaw, immediately began in a fitful way to fidget about. In an unconscious shushing gesture, one of her fingers naturally touched upon a smooth lip and a long front tooth, and in her confusion, she turned this to the long front tooth of a demon coming through the skin upon her finger. And it was at that moment that her spine again moved. It did so in that similar unnatural fashion it had moved in earlier. After that came the leg shudders, those hamstring currents, all those neural, rippling dreads and permeations around her thighs and backside. Then her mind free-associated back to those demons' claws – ripping off the flesh about her nose, her ears, her eyes, tearing limbs from the column of her torso, and now Lucifer was talking again. This time he’d moved off the subject of murdering Nick, which had not been spelled out as murder anyway in that everything had been suggested. Much, much, much older than Sabrina, more assured than her and with no waste of energy despite that languid-seeming indifference, this Devil was back to offering her a simple kiss. Like that first day when she had fallen for his wiles in this very cell, seemingly so long ago. 

“Kiss me, please, I’ve missed you,” Lucifer whispered into the close, electrically charged space between them. "I couldn't face you after what happened between us... I was angry at myself for what I did to you." His tone was laden with sincerity, a heavy heartfulness; it bore the sweet fruit of mutual infatuation that blossomed between them without either of them knowing when or how it had come to be. And after that gentle, genuine tone of voice – that was it. Sabrina was disassembled. With his quiet and subdued, ember-like passion, breathtakingly and unjustly and devilishly, he undid her. So it goes. Lucifer had meant for this moment, pined for it to come to be all along. He had pulled at her heartstrings, twisted her will, yanked and grappled and warred with her since her dark baptism.

Now, there was something more, this time from both, followed by pushing from Sabrina, then a taking hold of Lucifer’s shirt, a taking hold of him, an almost laying her head onto — But no! Instead, it was a rejection of his chest, rejection of him, then further pushing, but then a taking to the shirt again, stepping close, closer, another closer, more closer. Then she leaned over, leaned in, leaned her head onto her forearms, already at home on his heart. She closed her eyes then and breathed him into her, her lover, her enemy, her lover, at which point Lucifer must have thought permission was granted. He brought his arms up – too early! – not granted. With a cry, she pushed him off once more. So there they were. She pushed again, weaker pushing, and already his arms were out – wiser, waiting, alert for the cue, for the subtle indication that this time would be the right time. Ordinarily, Sabrina would have been shocked, disgusted, at the thought of anyone – especially her – acting like an overly wrought, emotional lover, even worse, like one of Satan’s whores. But she had become glued, couldn’t stop herself, didn’t want to stop herself and besides, Lucifer had started it and was continuing it. And now, permitting him to bring his arms around her, while she herself held on to him while managing at the same time to push away at him, she admonished, saying, “I think I hate you,” which meant she didn’t because ‘I think I hate you’ is the same as ‘probably I hate you’, which is the same as ‘I don’t know if I hate you’, which is the same as ‘I don’t hate you, oh my God, my love, I do love you, always, always have I loved you and never will I ever stop loving you’. 

“Hate me, then–” Lucifer growled out low, not angry, just his animal needs voicing his fraying resistance, his weakening will, his inability to ignore Sabrina's apparent, burgeoning love, "–just be with me. We’re fated to be together, like this, together.” 

Then, taking her face out of his chest, to push or not push, both of them ceased activity. There was a second of nothing, a blip of suspension, then they fell – no more talk, no more dramatics – with relief into each other’s arms. They were kissing now, tightly embracing; Lucifer, leaning her over, supporting Sabrina by her back, her waist – and her, arms about his neck, letting him hold her, letting him support her, letting him lean her over. Soon indeed, it seemed he was kissing her backwards off her feet. It was one of those ‘you’ll never be kissed like this until you smell like this’ Christmas French perfume advertisements. 

Sabrina embraced Lucifer as if it was natural, as if this was not her first time adoring him, having this nondescript, played-down, most-important kiss. Before she herself could do so, he placed her rightly on her feet again, parted from her and, close as millimetres, without touching, without even looking, said, “I think I might just fall in love with you.”

Lucifer shifted away from her, placing his arms about her shoulders, now, getting a good look into Sabrina's eyes. She leaned forward into his embrace. Then together, as a proper couple, they kissed again. There’d been a synchronicity to that kiss, a sense of providence, a deftness, some cosmic comeuppance easily to be described as pure alchemical process. It was strange though, that after that whole build-up, after the last bastion of _‘mustn’t fall in love with him’,_ of being warned, not just by herself but by Lilith, who had direct experience in these matters, _‘that whatever you do, no matter what, you silly girl, do not fall for him and set him free’,_ once Sabrina did step over that threshold, she would have imagined – two months earlier certainly she would have imagined – that doing so would have produced much more tumult and emotion than this. There was no tumult. No emotion. Here was this thing that happened for always she knew it was going to happen, for it had been telling her for ages that it was coming and that it was going to happen. And now it was beginning. What was there then, to get emotional and tumultuous about? What remained was to accept it, to get it over. And it wasn’t that consciously Sabrina thought, _‘He may as well have me ’cos he knew all along he was going to have me and I can’t stop this, can’t stop him from having me’_ ; or that here she was, journeying now to have done to her what she should have accepted long ago was going to be done to her. Instead, it was that by this time, she’d been adapted into a kind of hypnotized state

_‘Being with him is exactly like being hypnotized,'_ she thought to herself, _‘or how you might imagine those people who are gotten by vampires in those horror films feel like. They don’t see the horror. Only the people outside see the horror. Instead, they are in thrall, entranced, seeing only attraction.’_

So, thereafter it would seem they belonged to one another. Would Lucifer keep his promise to her? And was he indeed worth the myriad risks? Sabrina's foot, seemingly of its own accord, kicked away the salt circle in a wide sweep. _‘Yes,’_ it decided for her, _‘he is worth every bit of the risk and more.’_ In a puff of smoke, the white powder spread itself across the stone floor, momentarily inflaming nearby candles and blowing itchily across their ankles. The circle was breached. He was free. Oh, Heaven, Sabrina had freed him. Now Lucifer could spread himself across the Earth like a pestilence, if he so chose. Or, he could be true to his word. He could embody everything Sabrina had ever desired in a man – pure power, pure love. The devil heaved a great sigh of relief, of secret triumph, and strode forward out of the circle with the widest, most self-satisfied grin splitting his face in twain. He lifted his arms high into the air as if to greet a long lost, and very sorely missed, friend – his freedom. As if she were a quiet observer, watching herself from afar, Sabrina wondered if she was fulfilled or disquieted by the sight of him. She couldn’t be sure of her own emotions because the future seemed to be so uncertain; she was suspended in doubt. Well, Sabrina supposed she would soon see what would come of it, wouldn’t she? She had made her bed, and she intended to lie in it. 

“Now, my love.” Lucifer smiled generously down at her. He inhaled peppily through his nose and clapped his hands together in delight, thereby startling Sabrina from her reverie. “Let’s see about getting rid of this tired, old body and getting daddy back to his former glory, shall we?” Without waiting for her response, Lucifer grasped Sabrina by her hand, and in a flurry, he swept the girl out of the witch's cell that had been his prison for some months now. The candles wisped out the moment he exited the dungeon, as if Lucifer was the very fire that animated them – now, wherever Sabrina went, his energies stuck to her like a bright flame to beloved fuel. And so began their love affair, for better or worse, in darkness and deceit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, he's free. What's he going to do? Maybe no one is safe. 
> 
> I sincerely thank you all for reading! 
> 
> Stay tuned, lovelies.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW:** Character death, graphic depictions of violence, mental illness, brief suicidal thoughts, emotional abuse.
> 
> Also, beware of pretentious dribble. You have been warned.

Sabrina kissed her lips in front of his face, pouting her red moist lips. “You know I do,” she said, eyes shut. “Love you, Lucifer, love you.” She was speaking so faintly as if her words were radio waves crossing a few million miles of space. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“Well–” Sabrina started as if to argue, then relented, “no.” 

“Pretend you do,” he told her, “and we’ll face them all together.” 

What an eminent sociologist! What a clever psychologist! What a tremendously important politician, neurologist, and psychotic. All his vast qualities amassed over untold eons he had used as tools to influence her. There he stood in the corridor leading out of the witch’s cells, within the dank close walls, holding her tightly to his chest. He had convinced Sabrina to disassemble herself – to sacrifice herself in demented love for him – so that her coven may survive; and she was fully convinced of his plans in this respect. 

An eminent, eminent creature, he was, leader of the fiends of Hell, advocator of the banishment of goodness and peace, burner of bibles, bearer of torches; he was a dark and wretched creature, who had waited until the rough men of Earth had evolved beyond the bestial and built towns and cities and highways and made everything safe. And then, with everything well on its way to Safety, the Evil One, the man with the mercurochrome for blood and iodine-coloured eyes, came now to set up his moral climate, his cleanse, and dole out his own brand of justice to everyone. 

Tethered to this creature by their entwined hands – even more so by the strings of fate – without much further ado, Sabrina was tugged along beside him with the intent of walking out of the Academy in broad daylight, thereby announcing themselves and their new brand of leadership right away to her coven; though it was for a second time, this time she had a feeling it would stick. 

Sabrina had never gotten over her initial incredulity when entering a room with Lucifer. As a couple, they immediately commanded attention, fear and respect. She was both delighted and bewildered to discover that with him she was the master of peoples, with him she might do what she wished with men, and they must, by necessity, be polite and cooperative with her. They could not run away. And now, as on other days, she felt herself released and resilient, growing, growing like Alice. _‘Oh, so tall, oh, so tall, so very tall, until my head… bumps… the ceiling.’_

She walked among the members of her coven with Lucifer’s hand, warm and strong, gripping her own, as a dozen witches and warlocks gawked at them, disbelieving. She felt the same way she did when coming from the movies late at night, very strong, very alert, very certain of herself. She felt that everyone was watching her as she left the movies, and that she was very beautiful and very correct and brave and all the things that the movie heroine was, her voice oh, so musical, persuasive and she had the right lilt to her left eyebrow and the right delicate, floating footfalls. And sometimes this movie-induced hypnosis lasted all the way home and persisted into sleep. Those were the only two times in her living she felt miraculous and fine, at the movies, or here – with Lucifer in her own little theatre of cold romance and regality.

Whispers and wails sounded out from hidden corners of the Academy; it seemed the news had spread like wildfire. The Dark Lord was free and Sabrina had released him as his consort. No one dared speak directly to the notorious duo but merely watched as they passed in fear. 

There it is again, listen: again that ear-piercing din, all around her! Yet so far away. If she could only appeal to the Dark Lord not to bring darkness to the land, her mother, as all the members of her coven so desperately feared. May she find favour with him and not reap her reward in pain because she had fallen for a cursed man. To him, she prays. 

Silently, her heart implored Lucifer in words that her mind could not voice as they walked on hand-in-hand: 

_‘And listen, Father: give me a life more decent than my mother’s by far, and keep your hands from that sacred, hellish duty: your vengeance upon the Earth. This prayer is for the both of us, for our opponents, Father, I pray that you don’t avenge yourself today.’_

As soon as they made it out of the Academy’s doors – an effort made more for spectacle than actual function – they walked into a furious onslaught of rain. It must have been dusk by now. But since she had come to visit Lucifer, the heavens had opened up to torrents of lightning, thunder, and rain; seemingly, this was a very bad omen. As Sabrina followed closely, her father smoothly teleported them, surprisingly, outside of the Spellman house – she hadn’t even noticed he had used his magick to transport them until she saw the familiar silhouette of her house emerging like a monstrous shadow on the rain-beaten hilltops. No one was supposed to be home tonight, and the house was silent and dark in the rapidly encroaching night – but, a light suddenly flickered on in Sabrina’s bedroom as they quickly approached. 

Sabrina hesitated for a moment, but before she could utter her concerns – her suspicions of _‘Who’s in there?’_ when no one rightfully should be – Lucifer fully halted their brisk pace in order to draw her hand up to his lips and kiss it softly as the rain streamed down their faces and hands and wetted their clothes. 

“I like it when you pray to me,” he said, his eyes glinting despite the near existential darkness, illuminated from within by some infernal glow, “gives me half a mind to listen to you.” 

Sabrina slipped her wet hand out of his grip. She didn’t pretend to know what he was on about. “Why are we here?” she asked. “Who’s in my bedroom?” 

Lucifer’s brows drew together as in concern. “It’s not a Spellman.” 

“Who’s it then?” Sabrina wondered. 

She watched the light flicker out again, submerging the house completely in darkness, except for the intermittent flashing of lightning bolts in the distance which illuminated its dark exterior in a hazy, silvery glow; currents of heavily charged energy hovered over the town and with it carried the scent of brimstone on the wind. 

After a brief yet unbearably weighty silence filled only by the persistent beating of the rain, Lucifer merely grabbed Sabrina’s hand, dragging her along behind him yet again, and admonished, “Follow me closely.” 

Dangling loosely at the end of their extended arms like a rubber ball on a string, Sabrina watched the rain wet the stubbornly buoyant curls at the nape of Lucifer’s neck, felt the heat of his grip around her palm and the chill of the night seep into other parts of her, hot and cold, near and far – the many paradoxes that often seize one whilst in love. When he finally released her hand, she missed his warmth immediately. 

The front hall was submerged in blue shadow; softly squelching treads at the base of the steps sounded out, footfalls carrying them up the stairs to a door which opened on her bedroom where an open window looked out upon the graveyard filled with family and the storm’s crescendo, and in a bed by the window, a tall woman lying, her pale face immobile, until she heard alien breath in the room. 

The shadow of the Dark Lord stood over the woman and now leaned down so that the light from the window revealed a face and a red mouth as it inhaled and then spoke. The single word that mouth said was: “Lucifer?” 

“Lilith!…” he greeted her, his voice low and primal. 

Sabrina watched in dumb horror as Lucifer yanked Lilith out of the bed with all his might before the poor wretch could even process his sudden presence. She fell to the floor in a manner that was highly reminiscent of the way the spirits of the house had taken to violently awakening Sabrina at night. Moving so quickly that Sabrina scarcely had time to even react, Lucifer dragged the mother of demons, kicking and screaming, across her bedroom floor. Hoisting her up with one hand, he punches out the window screen with the other then forces her out, holding a dangling, struggling, worm-like Lilith by her heel, and then he was threatening wildly, “Oh, how long I’ve wanted to break this mortal figure you’ve grown so unnaturally fond of!” 

“No, no, no! Lucifer, stop! Please,” Lilith shrieked. “I’ll do anything!” 

“I like it when you beg–” 

“–Lucifer!” shouted Sabrina. From mind-numbing shock, Sabrina’s voice was the first to manifest itself distinctly and bravely, swiftly followed by her thundering footfalls as she approached her father and let loose a flurry of punches on his broad back. The wind whipped her face and a harsh rain drenched the windowsill. 

Without turning, or even acknowledging Sabrina in the slightest beyond the subtle tensing of his shoulder muscles, Lucifer growled out to Lilith, “Tell me how to free myself from Faustus’ flesh Acheron and I might let you live.” 

“Let me go first!” 

Sickeningly, in response to Lilith’s misguided plea, Sabrina heard Lucifer squeeze his fist with superhuman strength so the brittle, bird bones of Madam Satan’s delicate ankle audibly shattered. In between screams, she managed to relay to him the simple means of attaining his freedom. Lucifer made as if to pull her completely back into the room. But then, with monstrous strength and bestial glee, one enormous hand grabs her by the temples and pulls, pulls, pulls her head back, continuing even after reaping the telling crack and unnatural angle of her neck – he yanks more, more, too much more, so the pressure must release somewhere and her throat begins to slit grotesquely from ear to ear; he applies a savage sawing motion with his arm until her head severs and hangs by mere threads of thinning flesh; soon, he rips her head clean off with a final brutal tug. After a gentle shove to encourage momentum, he lets her body fall out of the window to the bushes below with a weighty, wet thump. Taking Lilith’s head in his hand, he holds it aloft as if to get one last good gawk at her, a small chilling smile on his face. 

As if he had commanded a violent sea to change its course, to suck itself free from primeval beds, the whirls and savage gouts of her wine-dark blood sprayed out of the exposed fleshy end of her neck somewhat belatedly, so shocked was she as to delay death. Now, blood spread and ran like wind and rain and stark lighting to generously coat the entire area: the carpet, the walls, the bedsheets, all the bodies in the room, almost everything was saturated with Lilith’s dark blood, as old and black as the earth itself. After realizing the damage he had wrought to Sabrina’s bedroom, Lucifer tossed Madam Satan’s head carelessly out the window so that it landed close to her severed torso far below which, swiftly becoming bloodless, lay like a clean wax mannequin in the farthest hollow, washed by the rain. As if a great charred caldron of sparkling black ichor had been overturned, the boiling blood and still-snapping, growling head with milky-white eyes churned down in the wet fathoms of the bushes, shadowing and screaming, whistling and whining, sputtering and coalescing. 

“What have you done?” Sabrina screamed in horror, falling down, away from him, scrambling up, running out of the door. 

“Stop!” Lucifer hollered after her, so soaked in blood only the whites of his eyes appeared relatively untainted; his crimson handprints decorated the walls as he stumbled, half-blind, after her. “Where are you going, Sabrina?” 

“Away from you!” she shrieked, somehow having managed to make her way to the bathroom where she barricaded herself away from Lucifer, locking the door with trembling fingers, pressing her blood-stained back against the wood in order to steel herself against the furious onslaught she suspected would be levelled at her at any moment. 

Instead, Lucifer came very, very close to the door, ordering gravely, “Come out, Sabrina.” 

“You can’t make me!” screamed the wild thing in the bathroom. 

“Of course I can, Sabrina,” insisted the monster, swiftly. “Sabrina, my love, don’t make me force you out.” 

This only made the pale thing writhing against the door the wilder. “You don’t love me, you can’t really love. I can tell by your awful face. I can tell by your eyes and your mouth. Oh, you don’t really love me. I want to kill you!” She blazed her hatred out at him so Lucifer fell away from the door. “You’re lying, and I know it’s a lie now. But even though I am your daughter, you’ll never in all your years understand me!” 

“No,” said Lucifer, turning. He went and sat down and put his bloody hands to his bloody face. “I suppose I don’t understand.” 

Sabrina slipped to the cool tile floor and lay there, sobbing away her great unhappiness. The bathroom swam around her and seemed to move on as if hurtling through space, the voice outside the room murmured and argued and talked on and on through the next half hour though she wouldn’t respond. 

He placed a food tray outside her door an hour later. It was a simple tray with a simple bowl of cereal and milk and hot buns on it, he told her. Sabrina did not move from where she lay. There was one comforting thing in the bathroom – a sweater of Nick’s that he had left behind in which she sprawled in silent rebellion and accidentally stained with Lilith’s blood. She would not eat Lucifer’s nasty food that he had procured from her aunties’ kitchen for he had most probably poisoned it. And it did not appeal to her to open that door at any point in the foreseeable future for she would have to face that murderer if she did. Therefore she would not eat. 

“Sabrina! Eat your food, Sabrina.” 

Sabrina said nothing. He could go on insisting. She wanted only to die now. Nobody understood. There was an evil plan to oust her from her throne and take away all that she cared for – that dark, wicked man out there was the source of that evil. And he had started it off by murdering Lilith. He had already betrayed her. 

The voice murmured again. 

“I have important business in Hell, too, just as important as yours, Sabrina,” said Lucifer. “Reclaiming the throne for one; certain individuals have to be put in their place, and the wayward members of the coven, they have to be dealt with swiftly. If I’m not there to do it, who’ll attend to the job?” 

Murmur, murmur, dream soft, listen, far-away voice. 

“You promised…” Sabrina mumbled, “you promised me that you wouldn’t do anything to change my life or to hurt me.”

Sabrina heard a gentle thud as Lucifer propped his forehead up against the door, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, nearly defeated by this wraith of a girl. 

“I didn’t–” he began. 

“–No, _no_ , you did!” she interrupted him, gathering strength. “You’ve already failed me, Lucifer.” 

There were a few extended heartbeats that passed in breathless silence. Then, she heard Lucifer’s footsteps recede from the door and slink off into the darkness, wordlessly. The silence was more ominous than his bellowing rage to which she was more accustomed. Though she could’ve sworn she’d heard him mutter far down the hallway, “Oh, misery born of her stubborn will!” But Sabrina couldn’t be sure and only buried her head in her forearms and cried. 

After what felt like an eternity, when she had effectively run out of tears to shed, Sabrina padded out into the hall to face her future husband. It had to be done at some point. So it goes. The house was eerily silent and felt empty. Afraid to go into her bedroom, which was by now a horrific crime scene, she tread downstairs and happened to glance through a streaming window. Outside, labouring under the dim light of a flashlight on the wet ground, stood Lucifer with a shovel. He was terribly furious, for he stabbed the shovel into the ground and threw the mud back over his shoulder with a vengeance. He kept pumping on unsteadily, blearily, through the storm. With a wince, she watched him kick Lilith’s decapitated body roughly into the shallow grave, tossing her head in as an afterthought. 

Sabrina thought of the darkness beyond town, the sleepy harbour of her home in the spring thunderstorm, the light flashing on in her bedroom, Lilith attempting to run, herself running, and Lilith gone, and the light going out, and the rain falling down on the dank shoulders and the soaked heads, and trickling off the noses and seeping through the clothes. 

Then Sabrina went on up to draw him a bath. 

She assembled everything she thought she needed. 

From the bathroom window, Sabrina called him to her, shouting over the storm, gesturing him home, welcoming him again to her arms. To his eyes, he saw her as a beautiful maiden leaning out upon the night wind and letting down her golden hair. And the hair twined and blew and became a ladder upon which he might ascend, laughing, into the house. 

When Lucifer finally came to meet her, Sabrina was on her knees stirring the already churning, bubbling bathwater with one small hand. The Dark Lord was carrying an armful of red candles almost sheepishly. For a brief moment, Sabrina ignored him, shutting her eyes to allow the heady scent of lavender in the room, the rushing, the steaming, the sound of running water, and the bubbly feel of it against her hand ease her troubled mind. When she at last opened her eyes, she surveyed Lucifer as he went about placing candles, asking him cheekily, “A little romantic lighting?” 

“No,” Lucifer replied easily. He positioned the manifold candles in numerous spots about the bathroom, lighting each one as he went with magick from his fingertips, lending wane orange light to the perpetual dark that Sabrina had grown accustomed to throughout the evening. “I have had quite enough of candlelight, thank you very much,” he joked. “And you’d be surprised to find out I’m not at all resentful of the miracles of modern man.” 

Sabrina scoffed, and Lucifer merely raised a brow. 

“The storm has caused a blackout in the area,” he explained. “You haven’t tried the lights at all, then, Sabrina?” 

“Darkness just seemed appropriate to the night, I guess,” she murmured. 

Lucifer hummed somewhat amusedly, “Isn’t it always?” 

Bit by bit, he stripped himself of his filthy clothing; and even saturated as he was with rainwater, blood, and dirt, he did not seem bashful. Sabrina watched him with growing irritation. 

“You buried her,” she almost accused, as Lucifer casually disrobed before her gaze, preening and peacocking himself for her dubious pleasure. His skin did have a near ethereal glow in the golden light, even covered as he was by a thin coat of muck. At times like this, completely bare, he really did resemble near godliness. 

Lucifer didn’t answer her at first and settled into the bath, allowing Sabrina to scrub the dirt and blood from his skin, all the little bits remaining that the rain hadn’t washed away; she gently worked at him with a clean bar of soap and her own two hands. Somewhere down the line, her brain had convinced her that if she could merely erase all evidence then the horror of the day had not truly occurred. Considerable time passed in this manner and she thought Lucifer wouldn’t say anything at all, but out of the blue, he was murmuring, “I know that’s what you would have wanted – her burial, that is.” 

“Since when are my wishes any concern of yours?” 

“Since before you were born.” He sat up in the bath so that their eyes were level, green and brown orbs trading jolts of electricity like overworked wires on the verge of combustion. Sabrina sat on her haunches beside the bathtub and visibly quivered when he brought his warm, wet hand up to brush a lock of blonde-white hair behind her ears. “It’s all that matters to me.” 

Swallowing, she said, “Lay back. I’ll wash your hair.” 

Lucifer did as instructed without a retort of any kind and for that Sabrina was thankful. She took a cup that she had placed on the floor beside her and began to thoroughly warm his already rain-drenched hair. She took the shampoo and massaged it into his scalp, carefully watching his face as she did so. Sabrina saw as Lucifer closed his bright eyes in order to relax into her touch in full. A second, a minute, an hour seemed to pass. His mouth twitched and set her heartbeat into a flurry as she ever-so-slowly retracted one hand from her ministrations on his scalp, with exceeding caution, and sliding to sit on her bum, she slipped her shaking fingers beneath the clawfoot tub, searching, searching, every so sneakily; she could see in her peripherals a flash of gold and silver beneath the tub intermittently refracting the candlelight; keeping her right hand gently combing through the locks on the nape of Lucifer’s neck, her other hand reached and combed and spread until she felt the thrilling bite of a sharp edge on her fingertips. 

“Sabrina,” said Lucifer, startling her into stillness, “you did listen to Lilith earlier, didn’t you? That’s why you ran me this bath. I intend to be rid of Faustus for good now.” 

“Uh, okay. Yeah,” she stuttered lamely. 

“Go ahead,” Lucifer sighed.

Steeling herself in her mind, she thought, _‘Yes, yes, you’ll be rid of Blackwood, Lucifer. After I send you both to Hell.’_ Her thoughts became frantic as she released her hold on his hair and transferred the knife to the slippery, soapy grip of her right hand. _‘I’ll teach them a lesson they won’t ever forget. So they want to threaten me, do they? All right, Lucifer, Blackwood, you both belong in horror, in chaos! But I don’t! I’m sending you away to go insane in your world!’_

A great cold storm blew through the town like terrible white caps out at sea. And when it had ceased blowing it had carried all her hope, whether real or imagined, masked or unmasked, to the door of her house which closed upon the girl she once was. There was not a hope anywhere in the night. The wind whined away in the bare treetops. 

And inside the big house, in the candlelight, Sabrina was delving her knife everywhere she could, all around, to all the exposed bits of his flesh, no matter how much he twisted and kicked. More gouges, more, more. Sabrina counted them with her simple, moving, red lips. Moving, moving. More. There, and there! 

And along the hallway and down the stairs and outside the front door came the sounds that were violence and death. The spirits of the house sprang the doors wide. Lucifer reeled back from the impact of the end to come. They both steeled their nerves. They balled their fists. They geared their teeth in their anxious mouths, then he went limp and everything the colour of crimson, and the tall thin younger man who had old things in his eyes was replaced by the small thin older man who looked young and calm in death. Blackwood. The sound of violence stopped. The sound of death had ceased. 

The strange witch herded by the strange shepherd found herself suddenly stranded as if she sensed a pulling away of a tide of men, even though the body before her had flinched but the merest hair. Sabrina breathed long and slow. The terrible copper stench wafted over her and filled her nostrils. There was too much urgency in it. She breathed swiftly as the heartbeat of a bird trapped in a cruel pair of fists. 

She had shut her eyes, whimpers escaping her rosebud lips, when she heard that familiar voice: 

“I’m wretched now, but once was full of hope,” Lucifer said, his voice barely above a whisper, “that you would care for me, lay me out on our bed with your own hands. Men would have envied me. But now this sweet thought is shattered.” Sabrina opened her eyes to see her father bleeding profusely into the bathwater, staining it crimson, one bone-white and blood-splattered hand gripping the rim of the tub, staring back at her with heavy-lidded, vibrant green eyes. “Without you,” he continued almost meekly, sounding sad, “I would lead a life of pain and misery. It’s better this way. Only your sweet eyes won’t see your father any longer. Your life will take another course. Why do your eyes rest on me, child? Why shed one last tear when you see me?” 

Lucifer closed his eyes, his voice strained, speaking almost as if to himself, “Ah, what should I do? I’m losing heart, looking on my child’s bright face.” Sabrina wondered if he was delirious, but she felt her heart rend all the same. “I could never…” he whispered. “If only I’d said goodbye to plans I made before! I should’ve taken my daughter from here. Why should I hurt her with my enemies’ pain and so give myself double their suffering? I couldn’t. Goodbye to those plans!” 

What was this change of heart? This renaissance mask of emotion? _‘But no, what’s happening to me?’_ Sabrina wondered internally. She didn’t want to be mocked while Lucifer goes unpunished. She knew she must steel herself. What cowardice even to let melting words into her mind. 

“You won’t convince me, Lucifer,” said Sabrina. “You’ll never change. And I will not hand my coven over to you to be abused. This will never be. It’s done, all done, and you won’t escape.” 

“So, you will walk a road most pitiable,” he said bitterly, “more pitiable than the road I sent you on at birth.” 

“No,” Sabrina retorted, dropping the bloody knife with a clatter to the floor, “I’m finally freeing myself from your spell.” 

Specks of blood gathered at the corners of Lucifer’s lips as he smiled rows of crimson teeth. 

“Listen to me, girl,” he urged, softening, “my daughter, give me your right hand to kiss. Dearest hand, dear mouth, body and shape most dear to me, and fine, beautiful face! I’m sorry for all that I’ve done.” His voice sounded strained and raw in death; his lips were cold and wet. “I hope you’ll be happy – if not here with me, then there with them. What’s here your father takes for himself. Oh, sweet to touch, soft skin, and sweetest breath of my child. Go, go. I can’t look at you anymore; I’m overcome by what you must suffer because of me. I understand the ruin I was determined to cause, and yet my spirit was always stronger than my plans. That’s the cause of my greatest misery.” His hand released hers, and the one which had been strapped to his chest, attempting to slow the profuse bleeding there, fell to his side without hope. “But you, my love, could have been my greatest joy.” 

Sabrina felt fat, hot tears well in her eyes despite herself. She was angry at Lucifer for putting on this spectacle in order to reap emotion from her. But even the candlelight seemed to fade as the spirit before her slipped away. It made her unbearably sad. 

“I, I remember,” Sabrina told him, the words flowing freely from her like floodwater, though she could not name its source, “when I was younger I often had this feeling whenever I was alone; walking through our freshly turned graveyard, coming home from school, playing with the dolls in my room, I would sometimes wonder…” she trailed off, biting her lip, descrying the tender look of fascination etched across Lucifer’s face in spite of the pain, the splatters of blood and gore, which aged his features tremendously; he attempted to conceal his thoughts but could not do so – seemingly too enraptured was he by Sabrina’s words and her marvellous theatre of expression. “I would look around to see if someone was standing somewhere near. I would take my time to survey the whole place. But then I saw the way the shadows stretched, thickened and coddled, darkening the area, making it chilly so my warm breath stirred the air, so my tummy ached as if I had swallowed too much ice. And I somehow _knew_ – A familiar image struck my mind: I was seeing evidence of my creator. One that had a particular interest in me. Cared for me,” she continued on, “watching me, concocting a plan all for me, all along. I know now just as I knew then, that gift could only have been brought by you.” 

Sabrina took him in her hand, and to Lucifer’s eyes, he saw as in pious reverence her gaze soon filled with tears of grief. He felt his heart seize as if in death throes. The feeling that threatened to choke his chest was so unfamiliar that he truly thought he was mortally wounded for one insane moment. He had craved the worship of a woman like Sabrina since that first cursed day had dawned on his mutilated back and his trials on earth had begun; he had crafted Sabrina to be just as he had always wanted, just as she was today, even in this exact moment he exercised his creative abilities over her; but now that she was offering her secrets to him, as if she would truly miss his presence in her life, Lucifer found that he couldn’t recognize what it was he had so desperately desired all along. Sabrina had seen him at his most vile, had even proven herself capable of murdering him for his crimes, and still, she seemed to love him deeply; still, he believed he could return to her and was convinced that she would offer her body and soul to him if he so desired. Part of Lucifer recoiled from this unabashed love, one without conditions, as pure as the driven snow. He was in darkness. And would be eternally. He simply couldn’t begin to fathom the inner workings of her beautiful and bright mind. 

“I remember,” said Lucifer, not listening. He looked at the dead sea that writhed behind Sabrina’s eyes. “I was always intrigued by your innocence. I could almost wish I was part mortal like you, then maybe I wouldn’t worry about being God. Then maybe I’d get some peace.” He shakily breathed in the damp night air that wafted through the open window. “But then again, I’d probably be just as bad as you. Then I wouldn’t care about anything but acquiring more and more power… Power would be like a woman to me. I’ll always go back to her, because she’s hard and fast and dirty and always treats me as I deserve.” His eyes became jaded, cloudy. “Power is an addiction,” he went on weakly, “it sustains me; and, in this life, you can either go hungry and waste away, an outcast from life’s feasts, or eat up everyone else in order to survive. It’s a nice thought.” His voice was a bare whisper. Now it stopped and light breathing took over. 

“Don’t. Don’t do this, you, stop this,” she implored him. “Stay with me. Please. And don’t hurt anyone else, not anymore; spare my coven. And I’ll bring you joy, living there in Hell with you…” 

“No, no, look what you’ve done, Sabrina,” he told her faintly. “I’m finished. But you… you have a chance… Listen, daughter. It never happened.” His bloody hands reached up to cup her cheeks with fading strength. “Tell our story, Sabrina, the one they’d want to believe. You were never going to give in to me, no freedom, no sex, no declarations of love, no outrage, no shock, no panic, no Lilith.” Sabrina felt the blood drain from her face and her legs threatened to buckle at the knees. “Why now, look at your face. Why are you falling back? Why are you sitting down? Why do you shake? Is it the disappointment? Have I turned your fun the wrong way? Good.” He nodded at her, sighing, seemingly resigning himself to something. “And now, Sabrina, get out.” 

“You can’t make–” 

“Leave me be.” His beloved eyes fluttered closed. 

“No, no,” Sabrina sobbed, “I’ll fix it. I’ll make it better.” 

With burning tears streaming down her face, the young witch went about Lilith’s ritual of separating Lucifer from Blackwood's dead and grey flesh Acheron. She sped through the process as best she could, her heart beating painfully hard and fast in her chest, as Lucifer became utterly unresponsive to her touch; he had reverted back to Blackwood’s cold corpse and looked as if he’d given up his ghost. 

Too much time had passed in grievous silence. After the bloody bathwater had turned almost ice-cold, Sabrina had given herself to the floor and formed a human puddle of tears. 

“Sorry you did that, Sabrina.” 

To her shock, a blood-soaked and staggering and humiliated Lucifer got to his feet in the tub, then took a soft step out, reached down, took a hold of Sabrina’s arm and slowly pulled her to her feet so he was breathing full in her face. 

He held tight, bringing her closer to him firmly and steadily, holding and massaging her sweater and the flesh beneath the sweater, stirring up her fear and arousal beneath the cloth. 

Though his flesh appeared unmutilated he was bathed in sickly red, smiling, smiling, smiling. Gazing at the beauty of his naked figure, in spite of the horror, she thought it was as though the fiend had completely prevailed against her, and fixed his throne within her heart, to rule it as though it were Hell. 

She realized belatedly that Lucifer was never in danger of dying. He had been pretending all along in order to exhort love, devotion and a much necessary ritual from her. This was Lucifer. So it goes. 

He registered the sad horror and betrayal in her face and only offered her a wayward grin and a near sheepish shake of his shaggy, filthy hair with his free hand. He reached down next to where Sabrina had been sprawled on the floor and wrapped the fluffy white towel she had been helplessly clutching low on his blood-stained hips. 

“We have a guest, Sabrina,” said Lucifer, turning his back on her. 

Finally padding out of the bathroom after him, a day, a year, a minute later, Sabrina saw that the windows and doors had been blasted open so the spring storm blew its rage through the house; there was a run of fire along her backbone, a faint blue glow in the dark entryway at the base of the steps, a turnabout wind like an invisible carousel sweeping through the opened front door, and then her footfalls down the stair to the door which looked out upon the graveyard, and on the front porch, a tall woman standing, her pale face a mask of grief, until she saw Lucifer step out to meet her. 

“Why did you save me?” asked Lilith, her voice hoarse, ghostly, almost a call from beyond, so faintly heard through the howling wind. 

“Because,” Lucifer smiled, stalking towards her slowly, “because your immediate demise seemed to upset Sabrina for some reason. So, it seems you owe her your life.” 

At the threshold of the door, Sabrina watched on mutely. The bloody duo faced the woman, their recent victim, in pregnant silence. 

“It would be polite to thank her, Lilith,” Lucifer said at last, “at the very least.” 

“T-Thank–” 

“–Really, child,” Lucifer interrupted as he crossed the distance between them in a single stride; his free hand reached to grip her by the throat, squeezing violently before the simple syllables could escape her lips in full. His strength and speed appeared far, far greater than before. “That didn’t seem genuine at all, Lilith,” he mourned. His thumb and forefinger dug into the edges near her ears where he had previously ruptured her throat with that very same, supernaturally strong hand. “Now, if you ever tell your lover, any friend, demon, angel, child, man, woman, stranger, if you ever tell even yourself out loud going to sleep some night about ideas to usurp us, do you know what I am going to do to you, Lilith?” he asked her. “If I hear one whisper, one word, one breath, I shall stalk you, I shall follow you for a dozen or a hundred or two hundred days, you’ll never know what day, what night, what noon, where, when or how but suddenly I’ll be there when you least expect and then do you know what I am going to do to you, Lilith? I won’t say, Lilith, I can’t tell. But it will be awful and it will be terrible and you’ll wish you had never been born, that’s how awful and terrible it will be.” 

Lilith’s pale face shook, her head bobbed, her eyes peeled wide, her mouth open like one who walks in heavy rain. 

“What did I just say, Lilith? Tell me!” 

“You’ll kill me?” 

“Say it again!” 

He shook Lilith until the words fell out of her chattered teeth: 

“Kill me!” 

He held tight, shaking and shaking the mother of demons firmly and steadily, releasing her throat only to hold and mass the shirt and the flesh beneath the shirt, stirring up the panic beneath the cloth. 

“So long, Madam Nobody, and no more legends and no more fun and no queenliness, in Hell or otherwise, an unmarked grave and you no longer in the sacred books, no, now get out of here, get out, run, run before I kill you.” 

He shoved Lilith. Lilith ran, fell, picked herself up, and lunged away from the porch as the foundations of the house, already from outside, were shaken, pounded, riven, by the force of the storm. She ran off barefoot into the raging night. Wind and rain blew wildly down the street, vanishing with the woman off among the moaning trees. 

Sabrina walked out onto the porch and when she reached Lucifer raised her flat hand up and hit him once, hard, a slapping strike across the face. Blood and sweat flew in a rain upon the air. 

“I,” said Sabrina, “I just had to do that. Just once.” 

She looked at her crimson hand, then turned to face the howling dark. 

They both looked out into a world of night and thundering wind and no stars. 

Sabrina pulled back, her great bright liquid eyes, the eyes of an eternally wounded and surprised child, with the look of the self-shot deer that would go on wounding, being shot by itself forever. She went back inside. The door slammed shut. Sabrina fell against it, breathing hard. 

_‘Fool,’_ she thought sitting there in the dark. _‘Don’t. Now, don’t. Stop it. Why are you doing this? Silly. Stop. Stop.’_

And what Lucifer had come to find he found. What he needed to do he did. 

For tears were running down her face. 

Sabrina wept. Sobs choked her mouth. She could not stop them. They would not cease. 

Lilith was gone. Madam Satan was _gone!_

And here she was, more or less chained to Lilith’s murderer, wondering what else Lucifer had in store for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The likelihood of a happy ending keeps getting slimmer, I have to be honest with you all. It's getting pretty dark over here. Satan has fully taken the wheel, children. 
> 
> But I'll see what kind of message I can reap from the horrific circumstances I've created that would be somewhat positive, or at least not all-around despicable for readership. We shall see! 
> 
> I attribute my dark obsessions to my current interest in Murder with Friends on YouTube. That is my excuse, thank you very much. Also, its fun to exercise my literary abilities with some seedy underbelly stuff. 
> 
> Thanks a lot, readers! I appreciate your lovely comments and kudos.


	8. Chapter 8

The moonlight peeked briefly through the rainclouds and passed like a silvery shoal over the wall. And for one blessed moment, the sight mesmerized Sabrina. Ethereality filled her vision and suspended her weightlessly, so she could almost forget the misery and horror of her circumstances, gliding above all her problems like seabird over the wine-dark sea before plunging back into its tumultuous waves.

Her life had crumbled into chaos in such a short time. The worst part of it was that only _she_ was responsible for her downfall. Sabrina physically reflected the turmoil which plagued her psyche: crumpled against the door like a ragdoll, stiff with disuse, she bled weariness from her damp, cottony pores. She missed her aunties. She missed Ambrose and the academy. Her friends, how long had it been since she’d seen them? It felt like an eternity. Sabrina felt different. _Changed, changed utterly: a terrible beauty was born._

The room was submerged in dark again when Lucifer pushed the front door hesitantly open, his encroaching presence jolting her forward with the force of an electric bolt, up to her brittle, bone-white feet which hardly steadied her gelatin knees and elastic spine. Her vision was tunnelled. Sabrina was unsteadied right down to her very soul. 

Lucifer took in the sight of her and wordlessly scooped her up into his tremendous arms. They seemed iron-clad, unforgiving in strength and resolve. He burned hot with infernality so that she shied away from him with what little strength remained to her. Perhaps she had been falling and he caught her, Sabrina didn’t know. Lucifer’s face was impassive and unreadable. His lips in a thin, cool line. Avoiding his eyes, the young, pale witch imagined his visage as it was earlier that night: gore hungry and blood-splattered, all that blood so dark in the moonlight it could almost be black. Monumental in his evil so that it seemed he filled the whole house. Spirits had burst out from the windows and doors if only to escape Lucifer’s insidious largeness, growing, growing, ever so. _He who sups with the devil should have a very long spoon._

Sabrina’s head lolled and rested against the jut of her father’s collarbone. She became delirious and some small, fading part of her recognized this. “Can I not satisfy you?” she heard Lucifer’s smooth voice bemoan. “Am I not enough?” Or was this some sickened projection of her consciousness, adopting the devil’s sultry tones, wishing that he were? Or, praying that he wouldn’t ever be? The fight seeped out of the girl like water tunnelling down the drain after the plug is pulled. Darkness enfolded her but Lucifer’s voice floated, simple and quiet, to accompany her into the ether and shoo away brutal aloneness. “Too much...” Sabrina struggled to speak as if her mouth were filled with cotton. “It’s all too much.” _You are too much._ Feverous sleep claimed her like death to the freezing: slowly, with great pain, then all at once in a great, final release. 

_Time escaped her, yet surrounded her, choking her without end. Trapped in an hourglass, Sabrina tumbled endlessly over the hot dunes, half-dead with heat, exhaustion and thirst. Her spirit seemed to melt from her very bones, seeping away from the pain of her eternal present, but she trudged ever onwards. Time’s perpetual stream fell in the form of a thick line of sand from the heavens and beat her mercilessly about the head. It pounded into her mouth and eyes, blinding her completely, suffocating her slowly. And no matter where she turned Sabrina could do nothing to avoid this torture – such a cruel fate befalling her,_ his _chosen one, how could this be? Here was her inexorable flow into insanity borne from her father’s temptations and stretched on into infinity._

Sabrina felt a hand, curiously cold, caress her cheek. Her eyes closed, she became aware of near existential darkness. A blackness that seemed to _breathe_ about her. That hand – bless this soft hand! – felt the damp heat of her forehead and smoothed back her sweaty locks. Sabrina felt sucked into that touch. As if she were as fierce and elemental as a lightning bolt, it was the cool earth that received her, grounded and dissipated her. Lightness began to pierce the dark as she roused fully into consciousness. 

“Wake up, child.” A familiar voice sounded out and brought waves of peace to Sabrina’s painfully constricted breast, balming her broken heart nearly in an instant. “I’m here.” 

“A-Auntie?” Sabrina endeavoured to speak but was hushed with exceeding kindness, a tenderness of touch and voice that was entirely unexpected from her usually austere aunt. Sabrina’s heart lurched for her eyes to greet that beloved face, yet her eyelids opened ever so hesitantly with all the heaviness of the world to bear. The very shadows of her vision seemed to be polluted with Lucifer’s dark presence. When Sabrina could be sure he lurked in no half-hidden corner in this curiously unfamiliar room, she allowed herself to focus on aunt Zelda’s stern, but not unfeeling, visage. In fact, the other seemed unusually pale and stricken. But she was _real._ Her auntie was really here before her and Sabrina’s spirits soared to see her. 

“What’s happened?” Sabrina’s voice was hoarse from disuse. _Why are you here?_ she wanted to ask but couldn’t dare to hope she had been rescued. 

Aunt Zelda offered her a slightly sardonic, yet grim, smile. “What _hasn’t_ happened, you silly girl?” 

Sabrina let her head fall back on to the pillow which sent waves of mysterious pain through her entire body as if all of her nerves were set ablaze from the sudden surge of her grief. “I’m sorry,” the girl said, feeling it prevailed on her to utter, “I released him. For our sake, I let him go. How could you ever forgive me? I thought I could control him. I thought he might…” She trailed off, her voice faltered then failed her, as hot tears collected in her eyes and dribbled down to her chin. “Adore you?” Aunt Zelda finished for her derisively. “Heed your wishes like some lovestruck little pup?” 

“I’m sorry,” Sabrina repeated, but it was not in her disposition to give way to regret any longer. “I’m sure I didn’t know _what_ would happen.” Glimmers of her childish hope soon belied her fears and she found it within her to wonder aloud, “Have you freed me? Is the coven safe?” She wished beyond reason that Lucifer had departed like Lilith, never to be seen any longer. 

“You never _think_ , Sabrina,” her aunt accused her shrewdly. “The vaguest notion of consequences never flit across that immature little brain of yours.” 

“I-I thought I might rule you fairly... as the queen of Hell.” 

_“Rule me?”_ her aunt nearly spat. “What genius powers of conception you seem to possess!” Sabrina was stricken to see her aunt betray emotions that she had scarcely ever shown before: Zelda’s lily-white hands and rosebud red lips quivered; her bright eyes held hidden depths of untellable darkness and despair. “The Dark Lord means to use you as a tool to overtake us. To march from Hell, through Earth, to Heaven without leaving any uneaten, unscarred, or unchained, in his wake.” 

“He _promised_ me.” 

At this reprisal, her aunt’s face betrayed not a hint of love any longer. Gone was that tenderness that roused Sabrina to wakefulness and assuaged her sleeping fitfulness. Cold apathy overtook the eldest’s features like a wave washed the shore and dashed away Sabrina’s innermost prayers without uttering another word. How foolish she had been! Her coven was not safe, their freedom unsecured. Forgiveness seemed as far away as ever. Black depths of misery seemed ready to swallow the girl once more but Sabrina refused to be brought so low, not ever again. If only a cold comfort, her aunt’s appearance served to harden her resolve. _She_ was the only one who could defeat Lucifer once and for all. Sabrina had to leave the little girl she was behind. 

“How,” Sabrina began as she sat up in bed, “how do I defeat him?” Her features were pale and her hair all askew, but the look in her eyes held more honestly to the strength of her character than Zelda thought she had ever seen before. Brave, determined and utterly untamable. This was her Sabrina. 

“The Academy has battened down the hatches in preparation for the Dark Lord’s inevitable onslaught,” Zelda began darkly, “but he appeared, even so, only the night before, overcoming our wards as if they were mere trifles. He seems to be getting stronger by the hour now that he is free from Nick’s flesh Acheron and the prophecy nears its fulfillment.” 

Sabrina felt her breath hitch. She realized how helpless they had all become, and recognized herself to be the tool manipulated cruelly to Lucifer’s advantage. That very familiar anger surged through her and her sense of shame could no longer have purchase in her heart overcome as it was by unabashed hatred. 

“Lucifer came to me and me alone,” Zelda continued. “He said you had taken ill and he knew that when you woke you would want to see a familiar face. Choosing me was easy, he said. He had admired me as a once devout worshipper, and Hildi was too frivolous in his eyes, of course.” Sabrina remained silent, and upon receiving no thanks or commendation, Zelda continued. “You see, he is not so vain as to be completely blind to his consort’s distress. The Dark Lord... he wanted me to _comfort_ you.” `

“He sent you here for _me_?” Sabrina could scarcely believe it. The act simply did not align with the malice and sadism she knew to be inherent to his character. This could only be another scheme, one beyond their immediate comprehension, and she refused to attribute the gesture to any justification of kindness. 

“Yes. But I’m here only for a short time. The Dark Lord, Sabrina, he jealously guards you.” Her aunt’s face suddenly looked sharper and somehow older, dampened as it was by dread. “Look around you. These are his personal chambers in Pandemonium. You lie in his bed of dark red satin, my child, steeped in his sin. He means to keep you here until you’ve recovered your senses.” 

Sabrina digested for the first time her crude and unfamiliar surroundings. The dark, rib-vaulted panelings that seemed to soar and disappear into yawning blackness above. Paintings of bloody, epic battles (that were so horrific as to encourage the assumption that Lucifer was _directly_ involved in their proceedings), as well as numerous images of his likeness, decorated the walls – some monstrous, which recalled to Sabrina her dark baptism and the trauma of her midsummer dream – and some of terrific, angelic beauty that caught her eye for longer than she would have liked to admit. The tremendous fire burning in the massive grate cast a hazy red glow across all objects within. 

“What will he do?” Sabrina wondered aloud almost to herself. “Imprison me here until I submit to his... affections?” She was loath to use such a pleasant-seeming word for such an atrocious end as that. By the moment, she felt invigorated by her aunt’s attention and became more and more like her old self. She now shuddered to think that she had once craved Lucifer’s touch. She felt waves of revulsion as she briefly reflected on that dream in which he had tried to force himself upon her, horrified at her willingness at one moment and her unwillingness the next; his joyful pursuit and that unlucky end. Even now, though the pain was dulled by the vague quality of imagination long since passed, she was disgusted. In a near alarming gesture, jerking her from her reverie, Zelda took Sabrina’s hand and squeezed it. Just like a real mother would do to hearten her child, as if sensing her distress. 

“I know you want to feel such sweet and easy peace like you have long before,” Zelda said. Images of her younger self flooded Sabrina’s brain unwittingly. All happy smiles and fresh, untroubled thoughts, paraded about by her proud aunts, warmed and made all the more beautiful because she was loved for her innocence and loved innocently in return. “The Dark Lord wants the same peace,” she continued, “and love, Sabrina. He hopes to feel his way cautiously inside it and find it endless, all around him.” 

“He’s going to be disappointed,” Sabrina chuckled humorlessly. 

“You accept the impossibility of such a feeling,” her aunt told her, “whereas the Dark Lord is still chasing it.” Zelda’s words were hot and dry, thinning from her tight lips. “If he got close to it, that’s why he will look for it again.” 

“I’ve tried to understand him. To gratify his desires, find his patterns…” 

“Instead you find yourself in a behaviour pattern you can’t break.” Auntie’s hands slipped about Sabrina’s shoulders, which seemed brittle, despite the strength of her gaze. Zelda inhaled the girl’s sweet scent discreetly, missing her tremendously, a grip soft with love but eyes burning hot with severe urgency. “You realize you have a choice?”

“What is it?” 

“Between utter despair and our only hope,” she said with some bitterness. “The Dark Lord will be destroyed by his love for you, his inability to climb inside this head.” She tapped Sabrina lightly on the temple and whispered sweet treason in her niece’s tremulous ear. “You don’t have to be.” 

Patricide, suddenly, seemed the most palatable dish and it was best served steaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the hiatus! Thank you all for your exceedingly lovely comments, I can't wait to reply to them all, they really keep me going. I have the next chapter almost completed, so you all can look forward to an update very shortly.


End file.
